


Thinking About You (And What You Do To Me)

by AbusiveLittleBun



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel lives up to his name, Biting, Bottom Tommy Shelby, Cheating, Come Swallowing, Coming In Pants, Daddy Kink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fantasizing, Grinding, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Violence, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Premature Ejaculation, Prostate Milking, Rimming, Scent Kink, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slut Shaming, Threats, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Top Angel Changretta, Top Luca Changretta, bottom John Shelby, just in general lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-26 06:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30101487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbusiveLittleBun/pseuds/AbusiveLittleBun
Summary: No.13 for the Peaky Rare Pair Bingo: FantasiesJohn has trouble understanding why Tommy enjoys being on the receiving end so much so he decides to investigate a bit when he runs into Angel.
Relationships: Angel Changretta/John Shelby, Angel Changretta/Lizzie Stark, Luca Changretta/Tommy Shelby
Comments: 40
Kudos: 28
Collections: Peaky Blinders Rare Pair Bingo 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bruv, I went from never hearing of this pairing before to joking about it to becoming absolutely fucking obsessed in under a day. If I didn't write this I would fucking combust. I know like two people will read this but at this point, I don't care I need to get it out of my system.
> 
> Thank you for @h3xthewh0re on Tumblr for putting this bug in my head with a simple ask and thank you to my mutuals who endured my insane ramblings that led to this...
> 
> Song Inspiration: Я буду (slowed + reverb)

John never understood why Tommy liked taking it up the ass so much. 

It just made no real sense to him why Tommy would rather be a pansy and bend over willingly if he didn't lose a bet or got paid for it. And Tommy did it often too. Way too fucking often, if you ask John. 

The repetitive banging of the headboard against the wall, his fucking mewling for "harder, please, ah, deeper, give it to me, fuck, ah, it's so big, Luca, don't stop, please, inside, do it inside," were driving John absolutely insane. It was going on through the bloody day and the night; they were like goddamn rabbits in there. Ever since dad left and Tommy could openly bring home his boyfriend, the house never had a week free of Tommy's lewd cries.

And John wasn't a virgin; he liked to fuck. He even thought he fucked just the healthy amount for a boy his age, if not more, with various girls; he knows how good it can feel. But it was as if Tommy made a deal with the devil and the cost was if Tommy doesn't have a dick up his arse every single bloody day, he will drop fucking dead. Tommy even endured their father's degradation while the old fucker was still here, his filthy words and beatings, just so Tommy could have a snog with Luca in the barn.

It was baffling, really. John couldn't get his head around it. Was Luca maybe paying him? If he did, they'd be the richest fucking family in the country, that's for sure. And those noises that Tommy made weren't fake, that he could tell. It must be some curse or witchcraft that makes Tommy addicted to it then. He couldn't think of any other explanation. 

He tried to understand it by trying it out with girls, but they all said it was uncomfortable and didn't bring them any pleasure. So then why did Tommy act like it was the best feeling in the whole fucking world? It made no damn sense.

The thought didn't leave him alone; it followed him into his dreams, into his daily life, into the pub when he tried to drink it away, and even into the fucking bedroom of whichever girl let him have his fun. But it wasn't fucking fun when he literally couldn't focus on anything else other than what it might feel to be on her end and have a man press himself between his thighs.

Would he moan so honestly and whorishly like Tommy did when Luca draped himself over him? Sometimes it made him stop and hastily leave in shame, and other times, it made him abruptly come embarrassingly fast.

It was hard to banish these fantasies from his head when Tommy liked to bring Luca home so much, like now when John was supposed to have his lazy Sunday where he could sleep late, but the fucking moans kicked him awake. Again.

"Come on," Tommy whined, "put it in. Please, Luca."

John groaned and pressed the pillow down onto his face, hoping to filter out the noise or at least suffocate himself. When the bedsprings started to creak, John realized, with a suffering sigh, that he won't have the luck to find peace this morning. 

He rolled out of bed with a huff, dressing with a scowl to leave the bloody house, hang around with his friends, find a chick, maybe sleep in the barn, anything to not listen to this.

He noticed while putting his clothes on that his winter trousers were missing. Tommy must have washed them or put them elsewhere. John really should get around to doing his own laundry and tidying his room by himself to avoid getting into situations like this, but he didn't have Tommy's neatness or need for order. He was such a pansy. Taking care of the household and other men's cocks.

John already felt angry enough to let his irritation carry him and march over to Tommy's room. He was not yet fully awake to properly grasp the weight of the situation and swung open his door, thinking it was due time for them to get interrupted and annoyed for once, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him.

Tommy was straddling Luca's lap, moving his hips up and down as if he were riding a horse, with the squelching sounds of their fucking loud in the thick air. Tommy's back arched like a cat, his head thrown back in pleasure, and his thigh muscles moving with every bounce he made on Luca's cock, his waist gripped tightly by the older man, helping along his movements and guiding the rhythm.

John could feel flames licking up his neck and burn up his cheeks, but he couldn't look away. He couldn't move or even say a fucking word as if the curse affected him too.

Tommy was rock hard and eagerly grinding down, his movements all elegant and delicate like a fucking dancer, and Luca matched him on that, his glistening abs rolling up to meet him halfway.

Luca had a nice body. He was tall, tan, and ripped, and John knew he could take Arthur too in the boxing ring, hence why he earned the right to fuck Tommy in their house without Arthur trying to murder him.

Luca also had a huge dick, he knew. John saw it once when walking into the bathroom, unaware that Luca was in there too, showering off after fucking Tommy raw. He wasn't even hard then, but John still remembers how shocked he felt that Tommy's thin little body could take all that inside and not only survive but love it. 

If Tommy, the tiny thing that he is, could do it, could John also be able to take it in that far? It seemed impossible.

"Do you want something, John?" Luca's chuckle snapped him out of his daze. He seemed entirely relaxed, not at all bothered by being caught fucking John's brother. John's fucking brother, who was still moaning and mewling, lost to the feeling, leaning down to press hungry kisses to Luca's jaw without stopping his hips.

Tommy was always a cold and emotionless bitch during the day, acting as if he was an all mighty being ruling over them, guiding them, but with Luca's dick nearby, he turns into such a mindless slut. 

John wouldn't act like this with a cock inside. He wouldn't start moaning and begging for more and acting like a bitch in heat. Right?

John wasn't sure how long he was staring, but he hoped to God his thoughts weren't visible on his face as he rushed out with a stutter of, "No, sorry, wrong room."

He's just going to wear his summer trousers, fuck it. They were a much lighter material, and the wind will make his ass freeze up, but he had no other choice. He honestly doubts he could bring himself to look Tommy in the eyes today.

He rushed down the stairs, ignoring Polly's smug smirk, always knowing what goes on inside their head, the witch, walking past her chair to get some breakfast and get the fuck out. She and Ada were fucking supporting Tommy's relationship. They said Tommy was always more tolerable after getting pounded by that fucking wop, but just because it was true doesn't mean that all of this was fair.

"Aren't those trousers going to make you catch a cold? It's chilly today. Or are you feeling a bit too hot?" Polly's condescending tone was just the icing on the shit cake that was this day, so John just rolled his eyes and stuffed his mouth with dry toast and butter and headed out, unsure yet to where. He just needed to clear his head.

The image, the sounds, the fucking scent; they all stuck to him like honey, sticky and mind-numbing. Fuck Luca for making Tommy such a goddamn sissy and for making him think about it so much. 

He wasn't a fucking molly or a nancy boy; he didn't want to get a dick up his ass. He liked girls. He liked fucking girls. But he was also curious, and it was all that damn Changretta's fault. Plaguing his mind with his overly large cock splitting his brother in two and not even feeling the slightest shame for it. Perverted prick.

John didn't even notice where he was walking until the salty-sweet scent of homemade tomato sauce hit him. 

Angel Changretta's restaurant had the best food in town; that was a fact John was well aware of but would never admit out of pride and spite.

The place was by far the loveliest restaurant he has ever been in, with the neat greenwashed wood paneling and the red checkered tabletops, not to mention the scent. Homemade pasta and garlic and oregano and fucking heaven. No matter how much John ate previously, it always made his saliva pool and his stomach grumble.

But he didn't let himself go there, only asked some of his mates to get him some takeaway from the place, partly because of Luca and partly because of humiliation. 

The Changrettas used to take care of them at their lowest, with free food and Luca's and Angel's old clothes and school supplies, getting extra tutoring and care. Audrey Changretta made it her life mission to not only be a wonderful teacher, but help out less fortunate children in any way possible, and her sons followed the sentiment.

Both Luca and Angel were older and taller than the Shelby kids. Luca thirteen years older than John, ten years older than Tommy, five years older than Arthur, and there was only one year between Luca and Angel, so there were plenty of clothes to choose from, and they gave them without hesitation. 

They also never minded having them at their dinner table, encouraging them to eat more, take a bit home, try this, try that, is it good? The answer was always that it was fucking fantastic.

The memories of their kindness warmed his heart, but his family fought so hard just to not be a charity case anymore, but treated as an equal. They were no fucking dead weight. 

But maybe that's just what he tells those around him when asked why he can't go to that place. The truth is, he can't even look at the restaurant without popping a vein in his head because of-,

"Ah, John, nice to see you! How is the family?"

Angel motherfucking Changretta.

He couldn't stand the prick. He was even worse than his dickhead brother. Luca at least didn't beat around the bush; he was a smug bastard that knew he was hot, knew that he was better, knew that he could knock Arthur and John out, and proudly showed off how disgustingly happy he was with Tommy bouncing on his dick every single day.

But no, Angel played the sweet and innocent honey bear that couldn't hurt a fly, the momma's boy that only wanted to help those in need and cook delicious food for people. He never took part in fights or gang activities like Luca, although he could have; he was also a big fucker, had more meat on his body than Luca. Strong but in a warm and soft way, every movement of his entirely harmless.

Maybe that's why Lizzie liked him.

Of course, John was fucking jealous. Lizzie was his sandbox crush, the prettiest girl in town, and he always dreamed of one day marrying her, even if she just ruffled his hair and called him a nice boy for the flowers he picked for her. She was only three years older than him, Tommy's old classmate and friend, but it never stopped him from thinking that one day he could get a shot with her and not just be the sweet young boy drooling after her.

That is until she started dating fucking Angel. 

She fucking raved about what a gentleman he was, how well he cooks, how sweet and kind Angel is, how he's so handsome and strong, and how one day they're going to marry, crushing John's dreams in the process. The worst part is that John understood why she loved him so much; all she said was true.

Angel was just as much of a menace to his life as Luca, if not more, and the bastard had the nerve to act innocent as if he didn't do anything wrong, like right now, smiling so kindly at John as he cleaned away one of the tables outside.

He was a full-grown man, already thirty with big arms and wide shoulders, more body hair than all the Shelbys put together, peeking out through his white waiter shirt on his chest and flashing on his strong forearms from below his rolled-up sleeve. It wasn't fucking fair that even his lazy stubble suited him so fucking well. He was too hot; John will never get a fucking chance.

John realized he must have got carried away by his thoughts again because Angel was looking at him expectantly with a face so chipper it was as if he wanted to wordlessly gloat that he was fucking his crush and his brother was fucking John's brother.

"They're fine," John grumbled, trying to put as much hate in his words as possible and wanting to get the fuck away from those brown puppy eyes as fast as possible.

"That's good to hear," stop smiling so brightly, you idiot, "would you like to bring some food home to them? I'd be happy to give you some to take away, free of charge. I'm trying to freshen up the menu a little, and you'd do me a great service if I could get your honest feedback."

John clenched his fists in his coat pockets. Of course, Angel's food was always great; he doesn't need the opinion of a few street rats living off on cabbage soup and stale bread. The fucking bastard was trying to sugar coat his condescending charity to not hurt his fucking pride. John wanted to gauge his eyes out.

"We don't need your pity meal, Changretta. Fuck off."

Angel had the audacity to look taken aback, speaking carefully, as if he was actually remorseful, "That's not what I meant by that. I didn't mean to offend you; I was just trying to be friendly, John." 

Very friendly to date your crush and turn your brother into a pansy slut.

"Well, don't. I don't need to be your fucking friend."

John turned to walk away, but Angel gently took him by the arm to stop him from leaving, "John, I'm sorry if I-," John didn't let him finish, recoiling at the touch and punching Angel in the jaw.

Angel immediately let go, putting a hand up to signal he didn't want to fight, but John just hit him again, this time in the stomach. John shook off his wrist, strained from the hit as well, and watched him cough and hold the hurt area. Angel was a massive fucker; John couldn't do any real damage to him with just his hands. If Angel wanted to lay John flat on the ground, he would have no trouble doing so. Shame that he was such a pussy he couldn't even bring himself to land a slap.

John dragged Angel to the narrow alley behind the restaurant by his shirt, and the miserable bastard came with him on his own, trying to calm John down with kind words while rubbing at his bruised jaw, and it spiked John's anger back up.

John tackled him to the ground, landing hit after hit into his middle, his chest, and his face, but Angel still didn't try to fight him back, only trying to catch John's wrists and keep him still.

"John, wait, what's wrong? Hey, listen, calm down, I'm sorry," Angel didn't sound like he was pleading for his life, more like a tired nanny trying to get a toddler with a tantrum to stop. 

John could fucking scream. He leaned back with a raised fist to give a hit ten times the force from before.

But then he startled, suddenly all too aware of their position, as he felt Angel's belt buckle dig into his ass through the thin material of his trousers. 

John stilled, panting, lowering his arm as it slowly dawned on him that he was in the same position that he saw Tommy in this morning: straddling a man's lap with his ass directly sat atop his crotch. 

He was sitting on a dick.

"Alright, could you please tell me what's wrong now, John?" Angel panted under him, punches coloring his face in a similar way John's face now colored at his thoughts. 

He held onto John's wrists gently, trying to hold him back from any further hits, and that had John snap out of his momentary daze. 

"Let go of me, you wop bastard," John growled, trying to wrench his hands free, but he got distracted by the feeling of how he could feel himself grind back on the crotch below him with every movement he made. 

Kind of like how Tommy ground back when riding Luca's cock.

John let out a pathetic little noise that he tried to mask with another growl, hoping his burning cheeks will be something Angel would think are made of his fury.

Because it is. Of course, it fucking is: John wasn't some virgin pansy, blushing at the notion of his ass atop some man's fucking-, oh good God, was that a twitch?

John tried to struggle some more, subtly rocking back against Angel's lap, focusing on if he could maybe feel the other man's cock. Just for the sake of research, of course. Would Angel even get hard from this? John could shamefully sense his own trousers becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second, so he hoped he wasn't alone in that regard.

"John, please get off, let's talk, alright? I don't want no trouble," Angel tried to speak to him softly, letting go of John's wrists and putting his hands up as a sign of peace.

"Shut the fuck up," John rumbled as he fisted his hands in Angel's shirt, shaking him to get away with grinding back a bit more purposefully, trying to mimic what he saw Tommy do, and froze as he felt an unmistakable twitch under his ass. 

Angel was reacting to his grinding. He didn't know why he felt a strange sense of pride at that or why his own dick twitched at the notion.

They both stared at each other with wide eyes for a second, both knowing what they just felt before Angel shook his head and hastily tried to lift John off of himself.

"John, get off, please, I didn't mean to," Angel grabbed John by his waist, but the touch and the image of it immediately gave John a flashback to how Luca grabbed Tommy the same way, lifting him up and down on his cock. 

Now he thought about Angel and him, naked and in the same position as their brothers have been on the bed this morning: with John riding and grinding down on Angel's cock, moaning the same nasty shit Tommy did.

Would Angel fuck like Luca? Or would he be more vanilla and sweet, letting John take his time and pleasure? John bet that was the case, which is a shame with his sheer mass. He could hold him down and fuck him like a fucking beast.

Did Angel have a cock as big as Luca's?

The hands encircling his waist were about the same size as his, but thicker, so maybe he was also-,

Angel tried to buck him off gently, lifting his hips a bit and squeezing his fingers around his waist, and John thought he was going to lose his goddamn mind.

He couldn't mask this noise, too close to whimper to play off, as he felt those big and warm hands gently try to peel him off like an unwanted kitten. John clenched down harder on the shirt in his fists as Angel lift him, and fuck, he was right; the fucker was strong; but not firm enough, leaving room for John to squirm and sit back down on his crotch in defiance. The belt buckle dug into him harshly through the thin material, but he couldn't care about that minor pain now. 

John needed to feel Angel get hard under him. He just fucking had to.

His next grind must not have been as subtle as he hoped for, be it for his lewd gasp or his more frantic movements or Angel looking down to see John's tenting erection poke at his belly because Angel completely froze for a minute before looking back up at John.

John's face was burning so hot you could no doubt cook an egg on it.

Angel fucking caught him getting off on this.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. How could he fucking explain why he was so hard and pushing his ass back on the cock of the guy he was supposedly beating up?

Angel quirked a curious brow before trying to lift John away again, but he didn't want to fucking go, squeezing Angel's middle between his thighs, and that reminded him of how Tommy rode his fucking brother again, but he couldn't fucking let go. Angel watched his face and bucked up softly again, John fucking whining as he felt his bulge press against him, and he ground down on it without any subtlety.

As if he just begged to get fucked, Angel's face smoothed out, his uncertainty replaced by an all-knowing calmness and revelation as if he just diagnosed John with fucking hysterical sissy syndrome.

He wasn't a pansy. He wasn't. John was shaking his head frantically, but no coherent words came out, only pathetic half sounds.

"It's okay," Angel tried to soothe him as he would with a spooked animal, petting at his waist gently and trying to whisper away John's spiking anxiety, "You're young. This is normal; it happens."

No, it wasn't.

"Shut up." John tried to sound intimidating, but he came across more as a whiny kitten, and he utterly hated it, "Shut the fuck up."

"Boys your age get like this from a stronger wind; it's natural, don't worry," Angel gave a small reassuring smile as if a blackeye wasn't already forming on him, "It's alright, John. I understand; I had similar problems your age."

Not the fucking age gap prep talk, please. Angel acted like John was fucking twelve and not eighteen, the belittling fucker. He only saw him as a pathetic little boy with too-big ears and lips, dumb, stupid freckles, and a babyface just like Lizzie. He wasn't afraid or attracted to John.

"I said shut the fuck up!" John roared, punching Angel across the face with panicked intensity, landing with a wet sound.

Angel's face snapped to the side, his lip split and splattering blood over his mouth and the cobblestones below him, but only giving out a pained hiss in response. Angel rolled his jaw and turned back towards John, but with no anger showing on his handsome face, those warm brown eyes still trying to project calm even with blood oozing from his thin lip and staining his stubble. He looked fucking breathtakingly hot.

John was panting and staring, utterly captivated by the sight before he pounced, licking at the blood and biting Angel's mouth in a vicious kiss, acting fucking feral as if this was another method of beating the crap out of him. 

He didn't even realize he was actually kissing him and not just playing out another fantasy in his head until he felt Angel's hands caress at the small of his back, trying to soften the kiss and then trying to push him slowly back. John just became meaner from that, clawing at Angel's neck, grinding his ass back harder, the buckle digging into him, rubbing himself against his stomach, gnawing at the fresh wound until Angel winced and tried to nudge him off more urgently. 

John only pulled back a bit to take Angel's lower lip between his teeth and pull, watching it redden from the abuse and bounce back as he released it, and then he just had to chase after it with another kiss that was more of a bite. Fuck, he was getting drunk on the salty copper taste.

"John," Angel breathed into his mouth, trying to pull him back by the waist, "slow down, okay? It's alright just slow down a little. I've got you."

John pulled back at that, blood-stained saliva dripping from his lips to shake him by his shirt again and snarl, "You ain't got me, you bloody bastard, you hear me?!" as if he hasn't been fucking kissing him a second ago. "I'm not a fucking faggot." He had to say it for his own fucking sanity. He wasn't. Angel was just hot, and this felt too good.

"I hear you, I know, I do, just breathe a little deeper for me, alright?" Angel nodded, trying to be as reassuring as possible, working so hard to get John to calm down and emitting peace from every pore even with his face all messed up.

John involuntarily found himself trying to mimic Angel's deep breaths, still shaking and panting from rage and whatever made him so bloody hard. 

Their faces were so close together. John bit at his own lip at the mess he made of Angel; his mouth and jaw were all glistening from blood and saliva and red from John's mean bites. He wanted to lick his stubble. It felt so strange but good against his face. Will John get a beard-burn from it if he kisses him some more?

"Good, you're doing good, John," Angel pat his thigh as he would with a fucking child or a dog, and John wanted to bite him again, but then he put his hands back on his waist and gently moved John a bit backward. John panicked again, sitting up, thinking Angel was going to lift him off, and his hands were shaking with how hard he was gripping onto the white shirt, but Angel just hushed him softly, "No, don't worry, it's okay, everything will be fine, I'll help you."

"I don't want your fucking help," John scoffed weakly but grabbed after Angel's hands when they let go of his waist.

"That's alright, I'm not going anywhere," Angel smiled and reached down to his belt, starting to unbuckle it. John immediately froze, and Angel was quick to reassure him, sliding his belt out and off, throwing it out of reach, "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear. I just thought it would be more comfortable for you like this."

John wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp. He wasn't even thinking about getting whipped by his belt; he just thought Angel was going to pull his cock out; there's no fucking need to bring his abusive father into all this. But of course, Angel bloody Changretta would be fucking concerned right now about triggering a painful memory in John.

If Angel didn't put his hands on his hips, he would have clawed his eyes out.

John's lashes fluttered, and his breath caught as Angel gently rolled him back forward, resuming John's earlier grinding but much slower and without any pretense. It did feel much better without the belt.

"Fuck," John gasped and steadied himself on Angel's torso as he ground back on the fattening bulge under him. 

He did that.

He got Angel Changretta hard. And John was painfully hard from it too.

" _ Fuck _ ."

John wanted to go faster, but Angel's hands can be steady if they wanted to, gripping him firmly and guiding the pace, making it less frantic and more sensual. Like Luca did with Tommy when he was riding his dick. That thought had no right making him feel so hot and twitchy, trying to test how much Angel could hold him steady. The answer was very much.  _ Fucking fuck _ .

Angel could so easily flip them over and just pound him against the floor. Maybe it would be easier to handle this situation that way if Angel just stopped being a gentleman for two minutes and tore his thin trousers off, shoved his cock inside John's ass, who would be helpless and unable to do anything. Just gasping and cursing and letting Angel press him down and into him, using him like a fucking pansy whore and fuck,  _ fuck _ . The thought made him close his eyes and fucking shudder.

"It's alright, John, I've got you," Angel whispered gently, and John wanted to argue again if not for how the older man rolled his hips up, his hands sliding down to John's ass, and pressed his prominent throbbing erection between his cheeks. "That's it, good boy, John."

John's sudden orgasm was something neither of them expected.

One second, John was just panting and trying to hold on for dear life for the world's slowest rodeo, imagining pure fucking filth. And then the next, he had his ass grabbed, felt an erection between his cheeks, and he was shuddering and coming in his fucking pants like a sensitive schoolboy with a girly fucking moan.

What was even more embarrassing was how sweet Angel was about it, fucking petting him through it and kissing his temple and whispering reassuring words like John was a fussy child in need of care.

John didn't even realize his orgasm made him crumble if not for how good Angel smelled where he hid his face in the crook of his neck. He smelled of spices and warmth.

Everything about Angel was warm; his eyes, his smile, his skin, his torso, that John laid on, and his hands that were still rubbing his ass and slowly coming up to caress soothing circles into his back. 

"Fuck." John groaned against Angel's shoulder, the high of his orgasm slowly seeping out of his head replaced by disgust and panic. He grimaced at the sticky wet mess he made in his pants and frantically sat back up, the situation hitting him with clarity like a knockout punch. " _ Fuck _ ."

"It's alright, John, don't worry," Angel tried to emit calm and kindness again, but his hands pulling back to signal he won't be touching John anymore only made him feel more panicked. "I won't tell anyone; this was just a little accident, nothing to be ashamed of, I swear."

"Shut up," John stuttered, his eyes wide and his hands shaking from the sight of the wet patch on his trousers. He came in his fucking pants from his ass getting groped like a fucking virgin. And Angel was still hard under him; he could feel it. Fuck. 

"John, please, listen to me, this is completely normal, you don't have to-," but John didn't let him finish, punching him across the face again.

"I said shut the fuck up!"

John quickly scrambled off of him, his knees dirty and aching from the cobblestones, the cold wind an unwelcome reminder against his wet trousers, and he kicked Angel in the side just to punish him for it.

"You fucking perverted pig," John panted, but it was more to himself than Angel, to be honest, "I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you!"

But his stuttered threat had no follow-up because Angel still had that awful pitying face on, and John just had to run away. He felt close to fucking sobbing as he ran out of the alley and didn't stop or slow down until he was home. 

John didn't say anything to Arthur, greeting him cheerfully at the table or Polly looking at him with suspicion; he just climbed up the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom. It felt so fucking hard to breathe as he tore his clothes off frantically and got under the cold shower to wash away the fucking evidence of what he just did.

He scrubbed himself raw from head to toe as if that would be enough to erase what he did twenty minutes ago, pushing his ass back onto the bulge of another man, kissing him, and fucking coming with the bare minimum of touch. Imagining what it would be like if they actually fucked.

But that was not gross, was it? Fantasies are not real life; there was nothing to be fucking ashamed of, was there? So what if he thought about what it may be like to have a dick up his arse; every man thought about it before, haven't they?

John bit at his lip as his soapy hands traveled to his waist and down to his ass, trying to mimic how Angel grabbed it. He was kinder than John's squeeze, but what if Angel gripped him this hard? Dug his fingertips into his flesh? Fuck, with his big hands. Did he like John's ass? It was bigger than Lizzie's, that's for sure.

If he slipped a finger between his cheeks, it was purely for cleaning reasons, no matter what his twitching prick might say. And if he imagined Angel's finger instead of his own, that was purely his business.

What did Tommy like about this? The finger that he nudged in only felt strange and foreign, and he was far too tight to fit a whole cock in there. John moved the finger around a bit, trying to find what made it so good, but maybe he wasn't reaching deep enough? But he was afraid to push in any further. He was terrified of liking it.

He could imagine Angel caressing him reassuringly, telling him it's all alright, this was all natural, just breathe a little deeper, that's it, good boy, John.  _ Good boy _ .

He gasped against the tiles, pressing the finger in further, his cock twitching. Fuck,  _ fuck _ .

He took the digit out, disgusted by himself, ignoring his traitorous erection in punishment of how it betrayed him with Angel, and focused on cleaning himself up thoroughly. 

He wasn't a fucking pansy. He wasn't going to entertain these fucking fantasies any fucking further. He wasn't. Right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John revisits Angel who offers to help him battle his uncertainty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I broke this chapter in two to give you guys a breather, and the next one will be coming soon enough too!
> 
> Song inspiration: daddy issues x do i wanna know - slowed  
> this song fits so well check it out if you can honestly

The fantasies didn't stop. Not that day, not the next one, nor the week after; they were fucking constant and invincible. And they started to take on color as well.

The headboard banging next door just incorporated itself into his jack-off sessions, getting on his belly and pressing his face into the pillow as Angel drove into him in his head, matching the rhythm.

"It's alright, John, I've got you," Angel's warm rumbling voice played on repeat as he pressed a spit-slick finger in and pulled it mindlessly in and out as he rubbed against the sheets below. "That's it, good boy, John."

John bit his forearm to muffle his panting as he arched his back, dreaming back for those big warm hands on his waist, on his hips, on his fucking ass,  _ good God _ . The image of Angel taking him like this from behind has made him come far too many times this week, and this occasion wasn't any different when he heard Tommy moan on the other side.

"Deeper, ah," and John couldn't fucking agree more as his hips stuttered and he came against the bed.

He half hoped that he was only deluding himself with the notion that a finger up inside felt good. He didn't really know what he was doing, but now he dared to press it in all the way to his knuckle, and it almost felt fucking ticklish, in a way. It felt weird, but no longer negatively. But he couldn't bring himself around to say it felt great either, not as great as Tommy made it out to be. 

Did it become a regular occurrence in his masturbation sessions? Yes. Could he get off without it? He has done so many times before, so most probably. Did he want to stop? Yes. Or, well. No, not really.

He grimaced as he changed the ruined sheets for the millionth time that week, throwing them in his laundry pile; the others started to notice how he started doing his washing too. 

John grumbled that it was because he can never find his stuff when Tommy does it. Polly rolled her eyes and explained to the others when she thought John was out of earshot how embarrassed John was when he had to go out the other day in his summer trousers because he couldn't find the winter ones. It turns out Arthur nicked it because he tore his pair when he got blackout drunk. 

But they must have suspected that his week-long foul mood couldn't be just because of that. Arthur has been trying to cheer him up, took him to the pub, tried to make him laugh, but it was no use. His unintentional obsession with Angel and the pansy shit they did together completely corrupted his mind and took over his life, making his scowl incurable.

He overheard Arthur drunkenly talk to some friends about how John must have been given the sack by some girl, hence why he acted a sour cunt. 

"Lizzie Stark could have told him to fuck off again, eh?" Freddie Thorne laughed as if Tommy didn't tell him that exact thing before, the miserable pining prick.

But he wasn't about to correct him and say, "no, her boyfriend got me off, and I want him to do it again" anytime soon.

That was the other thing; John has been jacking off more than when he had the first kicks of puberty, humping the fucking pillow with a finger up his ass every morning and night, but it didn't help in relaxing him at all. It just made him more and more frustrated and confused.

He even shed a tear or two purely out of anger. He didn't want to be a fucking sissy; he tried thinking about girls, just like before, their soft breasts and wet cunts, but then his mind had to fucking wander off to Angel goddamn Changretta. His perfect smile, his thick and hairy forearms, his big hands wrapped around John, his fat fucking cock nudging against his ass, and boom. He was coming faster than a preteen getting a handy behind the school.

It was bloody embarrassing.

And it didn't seem to want to stop.

He thought by avoiding Angel, the restaurant, and Luca, he might be able to get through this, but he was at a knife's edge at this point. As if he was on some addiction withdrawal.

He went out with Arthur to the pub that night again, his brother eagerly leading him on and telling him how he's going to get him a girl for the night to turn that frown upside down, but the fake smile John smeared on his face was fucking physically painful.

"You have to forget about Lizzie," Arthur whispered after his fifth drink. John barely touched his first one; by now, he knew the fantasies become clearer if the world became fuzzier. "She's a pretty girl, but she's not worth being so bummed over. You'll find another one, John-boy. But you have to give up on her. Let her be happy with that more tolerable Changretta lad. Angel is a good guy. Great cook."

Even better kisser, John scoffed in his head. 

Fuck, this wasn't helping. "I'll pop out for a minute, Arthur, eh? 'Need some fresh air."

Arthur nodded sagely, almost fucking falling over on his stool from the force of it as if John had to mull over his wise fucking whiskey-slurred words. Arthur was a good brother, but it couldn't be more obvious how Tommy was the one that won all the fucking brain cells between the three of them, that's for sure.

The cold night air nicking at his neck did make him feel a bit sharper, and he let his instincts lead him on his aimless walk, determined to clear his cluster of a head.

He almost felt ashamed that he hasn't thought of Lizzie not even once this week until this morning. He heard from Tommy that she was all concerned about some drunken bastard beating up her boyfriend's face the other day. So that's the story Angel gave. John gulped and tried to act normal and mildly interested, but Tommy didn't care for his reaction.

"She's making a fuss about nothing. It's not like it was anything remarkable; just a mildly purple bruise here and there, not even Luca said anything about it," Tommy exhaled smoke at the breakfast table. His throat had a necklace of angry purple hickeys all over it. Luca hasn't been staying for breakfast lately. "Besides, you know how Angel is."

"I don't actually," John muttered, trying to mask his anxiousness as he chewed on his toast. "We never talked."

Tommy rolled his eyes and took another drag from his cigarette, clearly miffed about Luca not sticking around for a post-breakfast shag, "You could stab him, and he would apologize for staining your knife. Even if something happened that warranted the beating, he would never tell. He's far too naive; it makes Luca climb up the wall sometimes."

John did feel a tad bit of guilt over it now, but in the end, he reasoned it was all Angel's fault anyway, so he deserved it. Even more so now, when he has been plaguing John's mind non-stop for a week.

He almost missed out on how he walked by the restaurant again, if not for the delicious scent hitting him once more. He halted his steps and saw the warm, inviting lights beckon him through the windows. 

It was past closing time; the waiters were packing up the place, bidding goodbye, and leaving for the night one by one. Angel was in there too, smiling kindly as always, wishing everyone a lovely evening while he cleaned the tables and put the chairs up. 

His bruises were fading away quickly, only a mild greenish-purple hue at the corner of his jaw and high on his cheek. John bit his lip, thinking back to how hot he looked with blood-stains and angry red bruises, laid back on cobblestones with his shirt unbuttoned at his neck, chest hair peaking out and panting with John sat on his bulge and rumbling what a good boy John was.

He didn't even realize that he pressed on the door handle and walked in, if not for the little bell above the entrance chiming traitorously, snapping him out of his daydreams.

John had no idea why he wandered in; he tried to come up with some excuse, but his panicking brain couldn't muster up anything cohesive fast enough.

"Hey, we're closed," one of the waiters that John didn't even notice was still there addressed him.

Angel looked up at that, noticing John with a faint surprise showing on his face, but he must have registered John's deer in headlights state because he just gave another reassuring smile.

"Oh, hi there, John," Angel turned to the waiter on the side, "It's alright, Tony. You can leave if you'd like; I got it from here."

_ It's alright, John, I've got you. _

John swallowed thickly and felt his cheeks start to warm up, but he just glared at Tony as the man sighed, taking his coat and saying goodnight to Angel before heading out, leaving the two of them alone in the restaurant.

Angel resumed cleaning up but still glanced over to John every other second with the same chipper smile as always as if nothing strange happened. As if John didn't beat him up and came in his pants on top of him while rubbing his ass against his dick a fucking week ago.

"How are you doing, John? How's the family?"  _ Not the same fucking kindness and the same fucking question, you bloody bastard _ . When John didn't answer and just continued to glare, Angel chuckled and gave him his complete attention. "Say, are you hungry, buddy? I know it's late, but I could get you something to eat if you'd like. Go on, take a seat; I'll be right back in a second."

John felt so awkward just standing in the entrance, like a lost fucking puppy, but he didn't move until Angel threw his cleaning rag over his shoulder and headed off to the kitchen. John uncertainly walked over to the bar, sitting down on a stool and taking his coat and cap off, fidgeting with it as he observed the place. He hadn't been inside before since Angel took over and only remembered the old Italian bar from his childhood that the Changretta's lived above. The new design looked nice. Homey. 

Angel came back a few seconds later, leading out the remaining chefs that still hung around in the kitchen, who seemingly didn't yet plan to leave and didn't understand why Angel was gently kicking them out now. Angel just nodded and reassured them in Italian of what John didn't know, but he was sweet and kind as always, and the other men begrudgingly obliged and scoffed as they saw John on the stool, leaving with muttered curses.

Angel sighed and held up a finger for John as the door closed behind his coworkers.

"Just a moment," he rushed back to the kitchen and re-emerged a minute later with a steaming plate of lasagna that he put down in front of John politely, "We always have some leftovers from the day, so don't worry about the payment; it's on the house." 

John wanted to smash the plate against the wall, tell him again that he didn't need his pity meal, but Angel put a warm hand on his shoulder and emitted nothing but pure sympathy from those warm brown eyes.

"This isn't charity, John; take it as a friend offering to share, alright?" his hand gently squeezed down before patting him softly, "That's what friends are for."

John's shoulder felt unbearably cold when Angel let go and went back to packing up the restaurant, leaving John to eat in peace with a few tables' distance between them. John couldn't bring himself to touch the plate, even though it smelled incredible. He was afraid this might turn even more awkward, but Angel rambled on as he wiped off the tables as if this was just a regular friendly chat.

"I really hope you like it. It's not exactly the same as my mother's recipe; I tried to freshen it up a little, so please tell me if it works or not," he glanced over with a bright smile, "I remember how mom's lasagna was your favorite when you were this small," Angel chuckled, motioning to his thigh in comparison. "You called it pasta cake, so she made some for your birthday, and you cried from happiness while eating." 

John couldn't bear his innocent and affectionate gaze and instead glared daggers into the food in front of him, chewing on his bottom lip with burning ears instead of taking a bite. He dug his fingers into his forearms viciously, almost shaking from how intensely he felt-,

Something.

It wasn't anger or disgust. Was it excitement? Anxiety? Everything just felt too much, and John wanted to jump out of his fucking skin.

"Thinking back now," Angel started again, this time softer, his voice lower and more considerate, rather than humorous. "It was after seeing how a simple dish could bring you to tears from how good it was that I started to learn how to cook. Your little red cheeks and your tears soaking your plate were so adorable, you were bawling your eyes out and screaming how delicious it was, and you never stopped eating in the meantime." 

John remembered too; it was his sixth birthday, and Mrs. Changretta invited them over to celebrate because John said they never did that before, never really had the money or the time. He never had a birthday cake before either and only saw them in the shop windows.

"I remember your aunt scolding you for crying in your food, saying it was disgusting, but I think it was wonderful," John wasn't looking at him, but he knew that Angel was fondly smiling as he talked; his voice was sweeter than toffee. "I was just a simple teen before that, with no real ambition, but I think I found my purpose then. I would probably have just joined the mafia like Luca, if not for that day. You made me want to make delicious food too, something so good that it just brings pure joy like that. So I think you deserve all the free meals from me, John. You inspired this whole place."

John froze for a minute, but then when he heard Angel resume his packing behind him, he swallowed thickly and picked up his fork. He hasn't eaten anything since his morning toast, he realized, but that was far from being the only reason why his saliva pooled.

John wasn't terribly important to anyone.

Tommy was the beauty, Arthur was the muscle, Ada was the scholar, and Finn was the useless runt of the litter, but John never really had a role; he was just there, kind of a loose cannon, but a fine soldier that could follow orders. 

He wasn't exceptional in any way, and to inspire something so great, was never a thing he thought could happen. And he didn't even do anything useful, just acted like himself: overly emotional, childish, and annoying.

The things Angel said made his chest and throat feel tight, making him doubt if he could even swallow the first bite, but as his lips closed around the forkful of lasagna, he almost moaned. 

It was so fucking good. So insanely fucking good.

After that hesitant first bite, he couldn't stop; he shoveled the food in his mouth like a madman, his pride damned to hell. The sauce, the pasta, the spices, the cheese: they were all fucking flawless. It was even better than Mrs. Changretta's cooking.  _ Fuck _ . He completely understood his childhood self: he fought so hard not to fucking cry from how delicious this was.

He didn't pay any attention to if Angel might be watching or not; it felt like if he didn't eat this whole plate, he would drop fucking dead, so he did not leave any crumbs. Every mouthful was heaven, and if Polly were here, she would definitely hit him over the back of the head for eating like a pig, but he didn't care. It was just him and Angel now, and Angel was too sweet to judge. 

Too sweet to pose even the slightest harm, really. Angel was utterly perfect.

John almost jumped out of his skin when the older man appeared right next to him, seemingly out of nowhere, taking his empty plate after John finished and putting it in the sink. 

"So how did you like it, John?" Angel smiled over his shoulder as he washed away his plate swiftly. 

John was silent for a minute, taking in how Angel cleaned up the whole restaurant while he ate and didn't seem to mind the extra work with his plate before grumbling bashfully, "It was fine."

Angel laughed, clocking the way John was sulking and downplaying how he practically licked the plate clean and wiped his hands off before walking back to John with a knowing raise of his brow.

"Aha, just fine?" Angel grinned, stepping next to his stool, reaching slowly forward to John as if approaching a stray kitten, showing he didn't mean any harm and held his chin gently.

John felt like his heart was going to break his ribcage and hammer out of his fucking chest; he was unable to breathe or think as Angel wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, cleaning off the remaining tomato sauce left there from John's messy eating.

The touch was so soft, and it seemed so innocent, Angel smiling down at him so kindly, but the moment that finger landed on his lips, even just in passing, John had all of his rationality chucked out of his head.

He was so out of it he couldn't even think about breaking eye-contact as he took the thumb into his mouth. He would have thought it was just another one of his lewd fantasies if not for how the delicious taste, with the additional saltiness of Angel's skin and soap, took over his senses, and he instinctively sucked.

The hand holding his face up twitched, the thumb slightly pressing down on his tongue, and John watched as Angel's fond look was overtaken by surprise, followed by a thick swallow that John mimicked as he ran his tongue over the digit.

Angel's pupils diluted in rapid speed, his cheeks darkening, and John watched intently, taking a bit more of it in slowly, exploring his taste and texture. When John gave another suck, Angel cleared his throat and hastily pulled his digit out, John's lips giving way with an obscene wet pop. 

As if the touch alone pulled him under a spell, its absence made reality sucker punch John across the fucking face, and if a hit not, shame certainly made his cheeks go bright red.

Oh, God.

Did he just fucking suck on Angel Changretta's finger like some deranged pansy slut?

His mind fucking reeled and could only come up with anger in response to how lonely his mouth felt without anything in it as Angel gave an awkward little laugh and went back to drying John's plate as if that didn't just happen. 

"So "fine," right? Any thoughts on how to improve it in any way? A little less salt, perhaps?" His voice was strained, trying desperately to go back to his chipper tone if not for how it dropped so husky and low from what John has done. 

Did he get Angel aroused again? 

John's fucking pants felt too tight at his crotch right now, so he better be fucking affected as well, or John is going to break something.

"Listen, um," Angel cleared at his throat again, trying to seem normal and unbothered, but still unable to look John in the eye as he finished wiping, "Would you like some tiramisu? Or we have pannacotta, wouldn't that be nice? Let me just get you some dessert, alright?"

Angel was moving back towards the kitchen, but John couldn't let him escape now, couldn't let the bastard leave him alone in his awkwardness, so he scrambled out of his chair and lunged at him, grabbing Angel by the front of his shirt and slamming him against the wall. 

"I didn't fucking come here for dinner," John growled, trying to seem as intimidating as possible as one can after having sucked on another man's finger and made fucking eye-contact while doing so.

Angel must have sensed how John was ready to combust from nervousness, be it because of his flaming cheeks, his labored breathing, or his shaking hands fisted in the thin material of his white work shirt, almost ripping it apart from how tightly he clenched down. Either way, his surprise melted away as quickly as it came, not trying to push John away, just keeping hold of his wrists to deflect any future hits and observing his face with a strange sense of calmness.

John wanted to punch him again so fucking much. Recolor the bruises he left behind, scratch his fucking eyes out, anything to stop Angel from looking at him with such an understanding and relaxed expression.

"Then why did you come here, John?" Angel sounded like a fucking doctor asking a mental-patient calmly and quietly, but it just further fueled his fury.

He didn't know.

He honestly didn't fucking know.

It felt too hard to breathe as John's eyes darted from Angel's to his mouth. They were standing so close; he could feel Angel's cool breath on his face, making him think of how a week ago he had those lips pressed against his. How strange it felt to have stubble graze his smooth cheeks. How delicious it was when he licked into his bloody mouth.

John grazed his own lips with his tongue and looked back up to Angel's eyes, catching his hooded gaze trace the motion. Angel couldn't not be affected by this; he looked like he could fucking devour John.

Thinking back to his favorite fantasies, he certainly hoped he would.

He wanted Angel to slam him down face first on the counter, tear his clothes off, tug on his hair and take him like a fucking animal, but Angel could never be so aggressive. So he had to take the lead for now.

John waited until Angel's eyes found their way back to his to check if his pupils were still blown so wide as before, then pounced, smashing their lips together in a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness, just like last time.

John bit down on the partially healed scar left on his lip, ecstatic from tasting his blood again and lapping it up before putting his tongue back into Angel's mouth, who met his moan with a groan, kissing back in that slow and measured pace that John hated. 

Angel tried to make it all sweet and romantic again, with his hands releasing John's wrists and traveling down, taking hold of his waist, and John fucking whined, pressing himself flush against Angel and cradling his jaw to keep him close. Angel's fucking belt, John's arch-enemy, dug into his belly, but so did his bulge against his own, so he didn't mind. He felt like he won something.

He hadn't even thought about breathing until Angel nudged him back, gasping into his mouth and pressing his thigh gently between John's legs for him to grind his tenting crotch against, making him straddle his knee. John fucking mewled at the friction, eagerly rolling his hips until Angel's hands slid down, firmly taking hold of his hips and controlling his pace, slowing him down. John whined and gnawed at Angel's stubbled jaw in frustration, clawing at the sides of his neck, but he didn't try to rebel against the hold. He enjoyed how Angel could take control.

"John," Angel spoke against his cheek, making John turn and kiss him deeply. 

John just had to lick his name from that mouth; Angel said it so deliciously. He traced his teeth with his tongue and wished Angel would bite him. Bite him all over and give him a necklace like Luca did to Tommy.

"John," Angel broke away and tried to sound more collected, stilling John's hips, and that just made no sense at all, so John tried to pull him back, but Angel just kissed his temple, "John, what do you want? Please, tell me. I can only help you if you tell me what you want from me."

Why did he have to bring him back to reality? John just wanted to get lost playing out his fantasies. God damn Angel for not even letting him have his fun.

John couldn't stand the honesty and the seriousness in his eyes, so he buried his face in Angel's shoulder, trying to hide away, get away, fucking disappear even as he still clung to him so desperately.

What did he want?

He didn't know. He didn't. 

He wanted his sanity back and the fantasies to stop.

He wanted to stop enjoying this so much, not crave it anymore, banish the thoughts from his head and be fucking normal again, not a fucking pansy.

He also wanted Angel to grab his ass, kiss his mouth and drive his dick inside and bang his headboard. Just once, at least. He can try it once, right?

If he does, maybe it will feel so bad he won't ever think about it again. 

Maybe this madness can finally end.

John burrowed his face into the crook of Angel's neck, breathing in his intoxicating scent and chewing on his bottom lip to refrain from licking his skin.

"I want," John whispered brokenly, his fists trembling against Angel's chest, but the older man's warm hands caressed soothing circles against his hips to calm him down and encourage him to continue. "I want to know... How it feels..." 

Angel noticed his hesitation to continue and gently rolled John's hips forward on his thigh, giving him a bit of pleasure to ease his mind, "Go on, John; you're doing so good."

_ Good boy, John. _

He muffled his moan biting down on Angel's shirt, his hips stuttering before he continued in a quiet sigh, his heart beating rabbit fast, "Inside... I want to know how it feels inside."

Angel didn't laugh or mock him, he just hummed, and his hands slid over to palm at John's ass, and it made him want to fucking sob as he pushed back against them, wanting Angel's grip to tighten.

"Inside here?" Angel asked softly, his index fingers tracing his crack through his trousers, the touch making John keen. He wore the summer ones again for some reason.

"Mhm," John couldn't face him, only relish from his hideaway as Angel lightly kneaded his cheeks, braver now that he noticed how obviously John enjoyed it.

"And would you like me to help you find out how it feels to have something inside here?" Angel squeezed a bit as he moved him back and forward on his leg.

"Mhm," John blushed, presuming that the older man enjoyed touching his ass.

Lizzie was gorgeous but thin as a beanpole; it must have been strange for Angel to touch his plentiful cheeks. John didn't take pride before in how his ass looked; he heard Freddie Thorne once say that the meat for John's brains all went to his ass, and that made him feel insecure and embarrassed, not to mention how Luca always raved about Tommy's nice fucking ass, which wasn't even as big as John's, so that just made him confused.

Did he really just become such a fucking sissy that he's thinking about how attractive his ass is and how it could please another man? 

Jesus fucking Christ, John, get a grip.

He wasn't a fucking pansy, not even if he whined like a little girl when Angel's hands left his ass and pushed him a bit back by his waist. That was just because the absence of warmth so suddenly felt annoyingly uncomfortable.

"Alright, my room is upstairs, come on," Angel nudged gently, seeing that bright and understanding smile making John's belly feel fuzzy, but the thought of going up to Angel's bedroom had him hesitate again. 

Doing something like that on a bed would just make it more real. John wanted this to feel just like a fantasy, nothing serious that could have consequences. A shiver ran up his spine as he imagined himself laid out on Angel's bed with his cock up his arse. 

Being pressed into Angel's sheets, with his arms around him, safe and warm and appreciated, was a fantasy too dangerous even for him. What if it feels too intimate and John says something embarrassing? 

He didn't even want to think about what he may be dreading to refer to; he wasn't going to say those three words to Angel: not tonight, not ever, it wasn't going to fucking happen. He can't let it fucking happen.

"We could just go to the alley again," John stuttered in panic as Angel turned towards the door by the kitchen leading back to the living area, "or, I don't know, a fucking broom closet or something."

Angel faced John again, his brows drawn together in confusion as if John had just said the most insane thing. He shook his head and chuckled, "John, I won't let you have your first time in an alley or a closet. Not with me. It's too precious for that," he looked John deep in the eye and cradled his face in his warm hands, " ** You  ** are too precious for that."

John bit his lip and wanted to hide away again, his cheeks heating up rapidly in Angel's hold and his lashes fluttering as Angel stopped his fidgeting with another mind-numbingly tender kiss. Fuck, he was so good at that; John could fucking melt. It also helped tackling his anxiety, even if only briefly, making him feel drunk and hazy from his taste before Angel pulled back.

"Come on; it'll be much more comfortable on a bed, believe me," Angel smiled with a last little peck to his lips; their shared saliva making a wet sound from it that could have been comedic in some other context, but now it just felt indecent. "And if you still want to try out how it feels to do it in an alley or a closet afterwards," Angel grinned, taking John by the hand and leading him through the door, "I'll gladly satisfy your question."

John's face burned in embarrassment, staring at where their hands joined together while walking obediently behind Angel. They had to get through the living room to reach the stairs leading up, but John didn't pay any attention to his surroundings. It was already late and dark, Mr. and Mrs. Changretta were probably sound asleep, and Luca must be spending a night at Tommy's. No, John was busy blushing like a preschooler over having his hand held by his crush. He didn't know why exactly did it make him feel so giddy; it felt even more intimate than a simple shag.

John squeezed Angel's hand a little, just because he could, and gulped as Angel squeezed back reassuringly. He never wanted to let go, but then they were stepping into Angel's room, and it was time to stop acting like a fucking wimpy virgin.

Angel closed the door and led John towards the bed, reaching for the light on his bedside table, but John pulled him back, wary of Angel seeing his expression when they do it. He didn't want Angel to see him enjoy it if he does. Somehow that felt important.

Angel turned back, the streetlamp from outside cutting through the dark blue and illuminating them with its orange glow enough that John could tell there was a hint of concern on Angel's handsome features.

"I get it," Angel whispered, and it sounded like he did, stepping back towards him, "I know it can be scary, seeing it all happen, and you do not need to know who it was with; it doesn't matter; this is about you, not me. If there's someone you'd like to imagine or just rather not look at me, I can close the blinds, and we can do it from behind. I won't say a word, and it'll be easier like that, yeah?"

John frowned, panicking again and taking Angel's hand in both of his, bringing it close to his rabbit-fast heart, "No. No, no, that's not why-, I don't, I-, no." He wanted it to be with Angel. He didn't want it to be with anyone else. "I just-, I-, it's me." His eyes frantically searched Angel's face, trying to make him understand that he was fucking perfect; it was John who was at fault here. "I don't want you to see... me."

Angel shook his head, chuckling quietly, mindful of his sleeping parents, "Ah, then you're just a little shy, eh? There's nothing wrong with that."

"No, I'm ugly," he didn't even think about saying it; he just blurted it out on instinct, surprising himself as well with it. 

It was true; he was sort of odd-looking, with his big ears and lips, his round nose and soft features, childish freckles littering his face; he wasn't a typically handsome lad, but no one in the family was. They were all a bit strange, and they've all been called names for their looks, Tommy mainly, with his high cheekbones and haunting fucking stare, but he was also beautiful in his oddity. Many have said so; it was their mother's bloodline's curse. John had it too, looking much more like their mother than their father, but not pulling it off even nearly as elegantly as Tommy did. John just looked dumb, like an over-grown toddler.

Angel's eyes widened, frozen for a minute before he broke out in a baffled laugh that he quickly tried to subside when John punched his arm.

"Shut up; it's not fucking funny," John snarled, his cheeks a humiliated red, watching Angel's broad shoulders shake from the force of his laughter, so he hit at them, trying to make them stop like a fussy child. "Stop fucking-, I'll beat you up again, I swear I fucking will. I'll break your face."

"Sorry, sorry, I'm stopping now, I am," Angel wheezed with tears shining in the corner of his smiling eyes, and he wiped at them with an annoyingly handsome grin, "I just-," he couldn't hold back his snort, but quickly reigned himself in from seeing John fume, "Who-, who in the world told you that you were ugly?"

Dad, Polly, the shopkeep, his old maths teacher, the other boys, some girls that John tried to ask out.

"The fucking mirror," John scoffed as if it wasn't plain obvious, "I have eyes, you know." 

"Not very well functioning ones, I'm afraid," Angel joked, taking hold of John's jaw to stop him from bashfully looking away. He observed John's face for a minute, his calm smile and hooded gaze making John twitchy and skin too hot, and he just couldn't fucking look into those warm brown eyes as Angel sighed, "It's a shame that you can't see it yet, but you're a lovely boy, John."

"Don't talk rubbish," John mumbled, trying to shake off the gentle touch, softly shoving the taller man back, thankful for the dark masking the color of his cheeks, "I'm not. Fuck off."

"But you are," Angel leaned closer, holding John's wrists together in one hand to stop him from pushing away while keeping him in place by the back of his neck with the other. "You're gorgeous."

"Shut up," John squeezed his eyes shut, trying to escape away in his head where dad sneered when looking at him and left him alone to shout at Tommy and praise Arthur. He wasn't even remarkable in any way. He was fucking nothing. "Shut the fuck up."

"Right here," Angel's warm whisper landed on the hollow of his cheek, sealing it with a kiss before moving onto his cheekbone. "And here," corner of his eye, where he kissed away a teardrop. "And here," forehead, "and here," other eye's lid, "and here," other cheek, "and this one is especially lovely," tip of his nose, "not to mention this," jawline, "and this one is just breathtaking," lips.

John sniffled and let Angel gently coax his mouth open, the tension slowly draining out of him with every kiss and just melting away from the final one, clinging onto Angel's shirt again and getting lost into the tender feeling. 

It was so good. Kissing has never been this fucking good.

He almost didn't even notice Angel working his waistcoat and shirt buttons open, if not for the older man slowly rolled them down his shoulders with his suit-jacket. John sighed as he let Angel undress him, shrugging out of his garments, waiting for him to fold it and put it on a chair nearby, and eagerly leaning in for the praises of sweet kisses after each article of clothing.

"Good boy, John, so good," Angel whispered against his mouth when John was only down to his underpants, wet and tenting at his crotch, "Am I allowed to take this off of you?"

"Mhm," John hummed, beaming from the praise, biting at his lip and holding onto Angel's shoulders as he helped him step out of his underwear. 

"Good boy, John, now remember: if at any point you'd like to stop or take a break, tell me. There's no shame in doing so." 

John didn't want to hear his concerns; he just wanted to have fun. He tried to interrupt him with more kisses, pressing his naked body against Angel in a hungry embrace, just like how he played it out in his fantasies so many times before, but Angel kept him at a distance.

"I'm serious, John. We don't have to do anything you don't like or don't want to do, and I'd hate for you to regret this, alright? Just tell me no, or hit me if you'd like, and I'll stop."

John stared up at him dreamily, thinking Lizzie is the luckiest girl on Earth. He bit his lip and nodded to show he understood, excitement licking up his spine.

"Good boy, John, very good," Angel kissed his forehead and let him go, walking over to the bed, which he sat on, tapping his lap, beckoning John to come over and sit on it.

It was much more embarrassing that he had to make these movements on his own, showing how he really wanted this to happen without pressure from the older man. He bit his lip and slowly walked over, fidgeting with his fingers and swallowing thickly from Angel's hungry gaze roaming over his naked form as it came closer and closer. 

He looked down at Angel's lap and felt uncertainty wash over him again. Fuck, why did Angel have to let go? Now his palms were sweating from humiliation, thinking that he was about to crawl into another man's lap and sit on their tenting pants like some obedient girl, asking to get fucked; if his father ever saw this, he'd beat him to fucking death.

"We don't have to do this, John," Angel whispered, the streetlamp soaking his face in gold, taking his hands to smooth out his fingers from digging his nails into his palms. He brought John's hands close to his face and kissed his knuckles. "You can always say no. I won't get angry. You've been so brave for me already; I'm so proud of you."

John bit his lip but couldn't hold back the desperate whine erupting from his throat as he moved closer and wrapped his arms around Angel's neck, straddling his lap and kneeling on the bed. Angel's hands immediately came to palm at his ass, squeezing appreciatively, and John hid his moan in the top of the older man's head, nuzzling against his hair.

Fuck, he smelled so good.

He got so relaxed from the scent he almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a wet tongue against his chest, licking a trail up following the line between his two pecs.

"What-," John stuttered, pulling back to look at Angel's innocent labrador smile, "what the fuck did you just do?!"

"You mean this?" Angel asked with honest curiosity as he leaned forward to repeat the motion, this time slower and looking John straight into his eyes.

It made him burn impossibly hotter, "D-don't-, don't do that. I'm not a girl; I don't need you to do that."

"Oh, but your breasts are lovely," Angel smiled as if he were talking about some fucking puppies or someone's teacup collection while pressing wet kisses onto his skin, his blush reaching down to meet them. "They deserve the attention."

"Don't fucking call them that," John mumbled, but his fingers running through Angel's hair weren't trying to tug him away in the slightest.

"But they are breasts; that's not a feminine term," Angel replied, covering the entirety of what he could reach in kisses, his stubble a pleasant scratch against John's sensitive skin. "It's not like I called them tits, although that would fit them quite nicely."

"Shut up," John's whine melted into a gasp as Angel's mouth closed around a nipple and sucked, "D-don't fucking-, ah, stop doing that, you bastard!"

Angel let go, only to lick at his lips and look back up at John with the most insatiable fucking expression and have the nerve to purr, "Do you really want me to stop doing that, or are you just embarrassed by how good it feels?" he kneaded John's cheeks and licked over the nub, "There's no shame to liking it; it's a more sensitive area to some more than others."

"Shut up," he tugged on Angel's scalp, trying to press him back against his chest, "I don't fucking like it."

Angel, the bastard, just rested his stubbled chin on his skin, not putting his mouth back on it, "Alright, then I won't. Not unless you want me to."

Not fucking fair.

John frowned, "How could you tell if I'd want you to?"

"You'd ask me nicely," fuck off, "like a good boy."  _ Fuck off _ . "You're a good boy, aren't you, John?"

**_ Fuck right the fuck off _ ** .

John weakly glared at him for a minute, sulking and enjoying how Angel just massaged his ass while watching him with nothing but pure adoration, craning up his neck to kiss him softly.

John sighed into the kiss, his mind enveloped in a heavy blanket of lust, and thought fuck it; he was already asking the bastard to fuck his ass. He crossed the fucking threshold of shame.

"Please," he sounded so weak and fragile it made him want to cringe if not for Angel's appreciative purr as he kissed the corner of his mouth. "I want you to... kiss. My breast. I want to feel that again."

Angel rewarded him with a deep kiss before pulling back, "So good, John, you're so good for me; I'm so proud of you, baby boy."

_ Baby boy _ .

John's knees fucking buckled, but Angel held him firmly by the underside of his cheeks to keep him upright.

The older man leaned back down to eagerly lick and suck on his nipple, the sensation as mind-numbing as the pet name, and John gasped, pressing him closer, rubbing his erection against Angel's clothed torso and fuck.  _ Fuck _ .

It felt like fucking heaven.

When Angel switched to his other breast, giving it the same intoxicating treatment, John's hips stuttered from the cold air hitting the wet and abused nub, and he fucking mewled, scratching at Angel's scalp.

Were his nipples always this fucking sensitive, or was this part of the pansy curse thingy that he fell under that made him want to keep Angel against his chest for the rest of the week? He knew he would get a vicious beard-burn, but fuck if it wasn't worth it. 

His cock twitched dangerously at the image of his nipples red and puffy, and his chest flushed and sensitive all over to the point that he couldn't even put a shirt on, and he had to walk around with them displayed. And everyone who looked at him would know that some scruffy guy went to town on his tits.

_ Why the fuck was that so hot? _

Angel must have sensed that if they keep this up, John was going to come way too soon again, so he pulled back with a final suck and let John crumble down into his lap. Angel pet him reassuringly, giving John a minute to breathe and gather himself with his face buried into the crook of his neck.

"You did very well," Angel praised, genuinely cheerful while John just wanted to bury himself six fucking feet under somewhere. "You impressed me, honestly. You're such a wonderful boy, John, so brave."

"Shut up," John blushed, hiding away and nudging his nose against Angel's stubbled cheek, feeling a bit more secure and calm with Angel's hands running up his hips and embracing his waist in a tight hug. The closeness felt so good, even with his tender chest rubbing against Angel's shirt. "I'm nothing of the sort."

"But you are. You're so brave and lovely, John, so good for me," Angel grazed his cheek with his lips, and John just had to shut him up with more kisses, or he'd go insane from all these sweet words. He could feel Angel smile into it, so he nipped at his lip before deepening the kiss.

John could fall in those kisses deeper than any rabbit hole. Maybe that's why he barely registered gravity shifting, Angel holding him steady as he laid John flat on the bed without breaking their liplock, and the situation only hit when John felt the soft bedding under his naked back. John moaned; Angel was so strong.

He tried to rub his erection up against Angel's belly, hissing as the cold belt buckle touched his overheated sensitive skin. Angel hummed an apology into his mouth before pulling slightly back to chuck off his damn belt. Good fucking riddance.

He only now noticed how Angel was still fully clothed while John has been naked and on display for him this whole time. The power imbalance angered and aroused him too much.

"Take your fucking clothes off," John scowled, tugging at Angel's shirt as if it was a personal offense to him, but missing his body heat instantly as Angel sat up to obey.

Angel was mesmerizing as he smiled in the faint light, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, throwing it to the side where John's clothes laid, and then pulled the undershirt beneath it over his head. The movement making the muscles beneath his tan, hair-covered skin flex, and John's cock and mouth both drooled at the visuals. 

He always admired strong, handsome masculine men and liked to watch them box and work out when he went to the gym with Arthur, but now that admiration seemed far from innocent as he reached out and touched. 

Angel didn't mind how John's curious hand grazed over his stomach, his fingertips tickled by his thick, dark body hair, and let him take his time in exploring it while rubbing John's thighs, draped around his waist. 

John felt like a hungry child, gawking at the display of a bakery with how hungrily he stared at the perfect body between his legs, holding himself up on his elbow and breathing heavily. 

Angel's line of abs wasn't as chiseled as Luca's, but he seemingly didn't work for it as much and had a healthy amount of softness to his undeniable strength due to the fantastic food that he ate, but it was somehow even fucking hotter.

Sure, John wanted to be fit and strong, not someone to push around like how dad did with Tommy, he worked out and cultivated enough muscles on his otherwise lanky body that he was proud of, but this wasn't just envy.

No, John didn't want to have Angel's body as his own. He wanted it on top of him, pressed against him between his thighs and weighing him down. All the fucking time.

He could also make out Angel's considerably large cock now pressed against his thigh below his dark trousers, but the light wasn't enough to make out many details, so his fingers traced down to touch.  _ He was so fucking big, Jesus _ .

He could feel it throbbing, warm, and rock fucking solid beneath the material, and John didn't understand where the urge came to want to take it in his mouth, but it was there, and it terrified him.

He was only going to take it up the ass to find out what the fuss is about; if John put his lips around a cock, it wouldn't be for his own pleasure but to service another man: he'd be a fucking sissy slut like Tommy, and he could never come back from that. That's a line he must not cross. Even if his tongue ran over his lips, trying to imagine how full his mouth would feel.

His father's drunken curses rung in his head:  _ "fucking cocksucker," "pansy faggot," "sissy slut." _

John looked back up at Angel, who's been watching him with the most captivated gaze for some reason and his throat suddenly felt dry. 

Did he know that John wanted to suck his dick?

"What?"

"What what?" Angel shrugged, his tone more polite.

"What are you looking at?" he sounded more childish than upset.

"You."

John rolled his eyes, "Don't."

"Why?"

_ Because I want to suck your dick, you annoying fucker _ , "Because I said so."

"I doubt this would play out easily then, but I could get a blindfold if you'd like?"

John groaned, falling back against the pillow in defeat, "No, fuck. Just get on with it." He didn't want to suck dick. He didn't. He would never put another man's cock in his mouth. Never. Ever. He wasn't a cocksucker. He wasn't a pansy. "I want to get over this as fast as fucking possible."

He didn't look at Angel, his eyes trained on the ceiling, but his disappointed little sigh felt like a kick in the fucking gut. 

"It's alright if you don't feel comfortable enough to continue, John. You've already made a lot of progress today," Angel pet his thigh comfortingly, and it made him want to fucking cry.

"Progress? What fucking progress?!" John snarled, ignoring how his voice broke, and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, refusing to let even a single teardrop fall. "Don't fucking act like this is some fantastic fucking achievement! Like I'm going to get a fucking  _ faggot _ award or  _ cocksucker _ medal of honor for wanting to take it up the fucking ass!"

His crying was purely out of rage; he was a fucking man, not some little girl. He wasn't. Even if he liked his tits sucked and his ass grabbed, he wasn't. _ He fucking wasn't _ .

Tommy's broken body laid out on the stable floor, bruised and bloody, and barely fucking breathing stuck on the canvas of his eyelids. Dad's yelling and his kicks raining down on him, and his thin, tiny and fragile frame could barely take it. The words ringed in his ears like tinnitus, but John didn't understand them then just yet. It didn't fucking make sense why Tommy had his pants around his ankles, nor why the stable boy ran the fuck out with his pair only held up by his hands. But John was taught it that day. His father made sure that John learned Tommy's lesson as well, so he wouldn't get any ideas later on, making him stay and fucking watch. Watch as he fucking-,

The warm and wet heat around his cock was an unforeseen surprise, and John fucking jumped with a high-pitched gasp, his hands immediately reaching down to grip Angel's hair as his head bobbed between his thighs. 

Sometime in John's misery trip, Angel lifted John's lower back off the bed and wrapped his legs around his neck, resting his thighs on his shoulders, holding him up and steady by his hips, with John's feet dangling in the air. It was a humiliating fucking position that made his prick twitch against Angel's tongue.

"Fuck, why-, ah," John sobbed, blinking away the tears and opening his eyes to see Angel stare back at him while he took more of his member into his mouth. He didn't look submissive or feminine or ashamed, even as he hollowed his stubbled cheeks and fucking sucked. John's hips tried to buck up with a moan, but he couldn't without the needed leverage under his feet, and he was just shaking helplessly in his hold like a butterfly caught in the spiderweb. "Stop, fuck, why-, why are you-, why would you fucking-, ah,  _ fuck _ ."

Angel pulled off of his cock only to press a wet kiss to John's thigh, pressed against his cheek, "You were getting lost inside your head a bit there, darling, and not in a good way. I thought this could ease your mind a bit since you started talking about sucking cock and all that."

"But don't-, don't fucking do that again," John kicked weakly at Angel's back, "It's fucking gross."

"Why?" Angel asked innocently, rubbing his cheek against John's thigh, looking at him like he genuinely didn't understand. The scratch of his stubble tickling John, but in a way that he wanted to feel all the time.

"Because," John started angrily, but he was uncertain about the answer himself, "It's what sissies do. It's only to serve another man, not for your own pleasure."

Angel hummed, "Have you, forgive me for the phrasing, eaten pussy before, John?"

"Of course I fucking have," John scoffed, irritated from the questions continuing instead of doing what he came here to fucking do.

"Very well, and may I ask why?"

"Because I like girls."  _ Duh _ .

"That's right, and did you do it only to please the girl, or did it feel good for you too?"

John was silent for a moment before hesitantly answering, "It felt good for me too." It was true; he always got a kick out of eating out girls; they were so wet and warm and sweet, and he got a bit drunk on the taste.

"Then do you believe me when I say that that's the same reason why I sucked on your cock?"

"No," the answer came too fast.

"Why?"

"Because it's gross."

Angel muffled his laugh against John's thigh, which moved from how his shoulders were shaking from the force of it. John colored in embarrassment, feeling like a child that just gave the wrong answer to the teacher in front of the entire class. 

"Shut up," John stomped on Angel's broad back to get him to stop, "I'm not a faggot, so I find it gross!"

Angel finally subsided his laugh enough to turn back to John, giving him a patient smile, "I know you're not only attracted to men, John, but you have got to stop using that word."

"Why? It is what it fucking is, there are normal people, and there are faggots."

"Because it is hurtful and untrue. That may have been what your father said, but he was entirely incorrect. Let's take us, for instance; we both like men and women."

"No, I only like women," John shook his head frantically. He had to fucking say it, or he'll lose his sanity.

"Alright, then I like men and women. What does that make me in your father's social order? A normal person or a faggot?" Angel was way too fucking relaxed about this conversation as if it had no weight for him.

John thought about it for a minute before he said uncertainly, "I don't-, I don't know."

"I'll tell you: a normal person; just like gay people are normal people too. Every sexuality is normal. What's not normal is to judge other people based on that. It's just as not normal as judging you or me for our cultural heritage. These are things that you're born with, and not at all up for judgment, but small-minded people who are unfamiliar with it can get scared from how you differ from them, and they make mean comments out of their own ignorance." 

John couldn't say anything; he couldn't even fucking move. He was feeling so fucking confused it almost physically hurt.

Angel rubbed soothing circles into John's hips as he put him back down on the bed, then draped himself over John's frame, his superior body mass weighing him down and grounding him. John just stared up into Angel's eyes, unable to look away from how honestly he smiled.

"My mother taught me that when I was small; before I could start feeling shame. But I know that I had a gift with her that hasn't been given to you or your brother with your father, and this may be a lot to take in at first, so I don't blame you for your behavior; it has never been your fault." Angel cradled his face, rubbing the tears away that John didn't even realize were pouring from his eyes, "You are a good boy, John. You are; I can see it. You've just been treated terribly by a horrible man that should have cherished and protected you instead of scarring you for life, and you make bad decisions because of it. That's why I'm not angry at you for hitting me or for using those nasty words; they are not your own design; they are what you learned at a crucial part of your development."

John was entirely in awe, silently absorbing every word and watching every inch of Angel's handsome face, wondering how his name fits so uncannily. His panic slowly faded away, replaced by this warmth coming from deep within that made him feel fuzzy.

"I cannot erase the damage that has been done to you, but I can help you heal and mend it. Because I see that you can; you are such a good boy, John. A boy that cries from happiness when eating something delicious, a boy that brings flowers to the girls he likes and still lets them love someone else without a bad word, a boy that feeds the dogs on the street even when he barely has enough to eat himself, a boy that smiles so brightly at his teacher when showing her how he did his homework, a boy that you look at and you just know he has the Sun in his heart."

His throat felt tight, his eyes were burning, and his chest felt so fucking heavy. His thighs squeezed around Angel's middle, his fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer, closer, but it was just never fucking close enough.

"A boy so lovely and perfect, who blushes so prettily when I tell him just how gorgeous he is. A boy that gives out the most wonderful sounds when I bring him pleasure. A boy that says please when he asks so sweetly for what he wants," Angel's lips brushed against his, "and a boy I'd give anything to when he asks me like that."

John swallowed, his lashes fluttering at how low Angel's voice dipped, and his cock twitched trapped between their bellies.

"Please," he breathed shakily. He wanted him so fucking much; he never wanted anything or anyone like this. It was so painful. And so fucking good. John licked his lips and continued, "please fuck me."

"As you wish," He barely finished his sentence, and Angel's mouth was taking his breath away, making him tremble and moan into the slow and passionate kiss, opening up for more. 

Reality felt better than any of his previous fantasies right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this leave a kudo and a comment and tell me how you'd beat Sr to death and pour kisses all over John's face and throw Angel on top of him to help his boy and find me on Tumblr @abusivelittlebunny


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel gives John his best first time and some more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is just 8k of pure porn m8
> 
> Song Inspiration: Streets X Put Your Head On My Shoulder remix (slowed & reverb) hour loop  
> It fits eerily well...

The sweet and warm kisses diluted his senses almost to the point that he didn't notice Angel's arm reach over to the bedside table. The sound of the drawer opening had John pull back with a shaky breath, like a deer hearing a twig snap closeby and sensing danger.

"It's alright; you're okay, John," Angel pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his other hand petting at John's hair. "It's just to ease it."

The tiny jar of lubricant came into his view, Angel making sure he knows about everything that's going on and holding it up for him as he pulled back and sat up. The cold air hitting his flushed front made John shiver, wishing back for the larger man's body pressing down on his, but he knew it was necessary. 

Necessary for Angel to see his hole.

Fucking hell, the thought made him blush like a virgin.

"I'll need you to spread your legs for me a little bit more, okay?" Angel gently nudged at his thighs, but they only tried to snap closed from the scrutiny. 

He was going to spread his fucking legs for a man. To let him fuck his ass.  _ Fuck _ .

He didn't want Angel to decide that they should stop again because of his cowardice, so he hesitantly tried to open his trembling thighs, but the fucking visuals were just too much. Angel was looking down at him with that ever comforting smile, his naked torso making his mouth fucking water, and kneeling between his legs with his big hands just resting on John's pale flesh. Waiting for him to let him see his asshole.

He felt like a virginal innocent little girl on her wedding night with how embarrassed it made him.

John had to cover his fucking face with a groan as if he were afraid that it would catch on flames out in the open. There was an extra pillow on the side, so he grabbed it and pressed it down to muffle his flustered noise, and Angel chuckled, caressing his skin in compassion.

"Would you like to do it from behind? It'll let you hide away a bit more. First times are always quite embarrassing and could even be scary; I understand," Angel's voice was so kind, acting as if he was offering fucking meal options instead of talking about sex positions. "Would that be nice, John? To hide away a bit?"

"Mhm," John's muffled voice came through the pillow, nodding together with his head. He was acting like a fucking child, and Angel was enabling it far too much. "Please."

"Good boy, John, so good. I'm going to move you a bit if that's alright?" Angel patiently waited for another nod, and then when he got it, he carefully lifted John by his hips, flipping him over with ease. "There we go."

John was thankful that the pillow against his face subsided his gasp. 

Angel was so fucking  _ strong _ .

And he was also right: it felt much safer for some reason to cover his belly, even as the older man was still arranging his legs to kneel on the bed, fitting himself between his flanks and raising John's hips.

"Arch your back for me a little, please," Angel pressed a gentle hand down on the small of John's back, holding him up with the other thankfully because the touch and words alone had him weak at the knees. "Beautiful. You're so gorgeous for me, John."

John squirmed at the praise, feeling on edge at the humiliating position. His chest was flush against the sheets, hugging a pillow close like a scared little kid, while his ass was high up in the air like a fucking bitch in heat. And Angel said he was beautiful like that.  _ Fuck _ . It made his cock twitch and drool onto the bed.

Angel must have noticed his anxious state again because he draped himself over his back, kissing the side of his neck and coaxing his face to emerge from the pillow to press his lips against his cheek. John sniffled and craned his neck for a comforting kiss which Angel happily gave.

"Don't worry, John. I'll be gentle," Angel whispered into his mouth, sealing his promise with another kiss, and slow circles caressed into his hips as he pulled back. 

As if he needed to say it.

John couldn't imagine Angel fucking in any other way than vanilla. Not like he was ready for anything other than that right now, but maybe next time, Angel could try fucking him like in his fantasies, like Luca when he's irritated and takes it out on Tommy's ass. The kind of fuck that has Tommy howl and unable to walk for a week straight.

Why the fuck was John thinking about a next time? There wasn't going to be a next time. 

This is a one fucking time thing. Nothing else.

After this, John will go back to being straight and fucking girls left and right, and Angel was going back to whatever he was with Lizzie. 

Lizzie. The girl he loves. The girl that loves him back.

He must be treating John so tenderly because that's what Lizzie likes, besides his default nature. She was thin and delicate, so Angel must be so careful and gentle with her, just like she deserves.

Did Angel give him the exact same treatment, or was he even sweeter to her? It would make sense; he cherished Lizzie. John wondered what that would feel like, to be loved the same way.

But he was already feeling more loved than he ever felt before, and he was just about to have an experimental one-time fuck. It was messing with his head in ways he didn't want to dwell on; it wouldn't bring him any good.

Angel trailed kisses down from his cheek to the back of his neck, and all the way down his spine, his stubble a soft scratch against his smooth skin that made John lose himself a bit to a burst of lust again. Angel was kneading at his ass, and John couldn't help but arch into the touch with a needy moan, encouraging him to do it harder as those lips skimmed at his asscheeks then spread them with his thumbs. 

John didn't have time to think about how exposed he might feel from the cold air on his taint because the next second, a wet tongue lapped a heavy line over his hole, making John fucking jump. 

"Jesus fucking-," John gasped, reaching back to grab at Angel's hair in panic while the older man licked more and more, coating his crack in saliva. "What the fuck-, fucking-, stop that!"

John looked over his shoulder, his whole body trembling, and Angel had the fucking nerve to look at him with the same chipper expression as if John wasn't holding onto his short hair with a death-grip and he didn't just fucking do  _ that _ .

"Don't fucking lick my-, that's fucking disgusting!" John whispered harshly, his cheeks (all of them) aflame in humiliation. Was Angel trying to fucking kill him?! It sure felt like it.

"Oh, you're very clean, don't worry,"  _ because I've been fingering my own ass today too, you fucking menace _ . "And it's no different from eating pussy, believe me," Angel chuckled. 

"I don't have a fucking pussy," John whined, burying his burning face back in the pillow to hide away in shame.

"I know that you don't, John. However, you do have a lovely round bottom that I would like to eat in a similar manner if you'd let me," Angel pressed a kiss to his ass, his stubble tickling his sensitive skin. "It looks quite delicious, but I will not if you do not want me to."

John turned to glare back at Angel, his eyes glazed with tears in embarrassment, still holding the pillow just below them. 

_ This perverted fucker. _

Having his ass eaten was something that he never even thought about in any of his fantasies, and it made his heart fucking break through his chest with how hard it made it beat. It felt even more fucking indecent than when he imagined Angel fucking him in the restaurant bathroom while he was still supposed to be working. With other people in too.

"Fine, I guess that means you wouldn't want my tongue back there-," Angel started, already pulling back, making John panic.

"I didn't say that," he blurted out, immediately regretting it. John looked away, unable to hold Angel's gaze, and pouted against the pillow, "It just-, it feels weird. And I've never-, you know. I never thought about it. That's all."

Angel hummed in understanding, "Would you like to try it and then decide if it is for you or not? It's alright if it isn't; I won't pressure you. All I can do is try to make it feel as good for you as possible."

Stop being so fucking gentle and kind, you fucking bastard.

John pouted for a minute, then pushed his ass out hesitantly in answer, blinking up at Angel as he mumbled against the pillow, "Please."

Angel beamed, his smile brighter than the heavens above and making John feel fuzzy inside, "Good boy, John. You're so brave for your first time; you should be proud of yourself. I know I am." 

"Shut-" but John's whine dissolved into a whimper as Angel's warm tongue swiped over his hole again. The sudden sensation made his knees fucking buckle, but the older man held him firmly up, anticipating his sensitive reaction.

The tongue was so silky, but he could still make out a bit of texture as it disposed a generous amount of saliva on the valley between his cheeks, trickling warmly down to his balls and making something twist in his stomach.

Fuck, it felt strange. Strangely  _ fantastic _ .

Angel parted his cheeks further, his stubble grazing between them deliciously with every hungry lap and moving against his skin in a way that John prayed would lead to a beard burn. He didn't know why he craved one, but the idea made his cock jump.

When that slick tongue nudged against the ring of muscle, John had no idea what to expect, if he'd hate it or like it, but the moment his hole gave way to the intrusion, and it slid inside, he didn't fucking get the time to decide because he was coming his fucking brains out onto the sheets in shock.

Fuck.

What the fucking  _ fuck _ .

It felt-

_ Oh, fucking Christ _ .

John whined and trembled his aftershocks out as Angel's tongue slipped deeper and slurred around, making John's knees fucking useless. Thankfully, Angel kept him from falling apart as his bones turned into fucking jelly from his orgasm.

He fucked John through it all with his fucking tongue, moving in and out and around as if he were exploring an actual pussy, not stopping his swirling tongue from working his insides until John tugged weakly on his hair in oversensitivity.

It was so fucking much, it was all so fucking much, but he missed it instantly as Angel pulled back, his tongue leaving John's body with the most indecent wet sound.

"So," Angel's chuckle was so deep and rough as he pressed wet little kisses all over his ass, it had John feeling even weaker, "I'll take that as a sign that you didn't hate it, hm?"

John whined into the pillow, "Fuck off."

It felt fucking wet and nasty. John hated how he loved it.

Angel's mouth traced all over his cheeks for a few minutes, letting John recover patiently, raining kisses and soft bites down on him, which he had to fucking lean into to ask for more until his cock started quickly rehardening again in interest. 

"Would you like me to eat you out again, John? While I open you up with my fingers? Or would that be too much?" Angel massaged his cheeks, his warm breath between them already. 

He didn't know why he felt so proud at the notion that the older man seemingly liked to eat him out, but it had John arch his back further, his fingers caressing through Angel's hair lovingly.

"Yes, please," he couldn't fucking say the rest of it, but he didn't even need to because Angel was burying his scruffy face back in there immediately, groaning in unison with John.

The vibrations made John's breath hitch and push back, that skillful tongue making him come undone with every lick, making the filthiest fucking wet noises in his tight passage. The way Angel squeezed his cheeks was a clear indicator that the older man got pleasure out of what he was doing as well, and John's prick, which just spent a few minutes ago, was fully hard again from it.

_ It's no different from eating pussy _ .

Angel was eating him out like he was eating fucking pussy. And John liked it. So fucking much.

The act will definitely take center stage at John's favorite fantasies.

Oh,  _ fuck _ . If John wasn't a fucking pansy before, he sure as fuck was one now.

Angel caressed over his thighs in warning before one of his hands released him, and John felt a finger nudge beside the older man's tongue. John thought since he already managed a finger up inside himself, there would be no new surprises, but once again, Angel managed to do it anyway.

His fingers were both thicker and longer, reaching deeper and clearly aware of what he was doing, nothing like John's mindless self-fingering. It was both sensual and as if he was looking for something, but John wasn't a girl, and he wasn't fingering his pussy, why would he-,

_ Oh, holy fuck _ .

John didn't press his face into the pillow in time and let out the most embarrassing moan as Angel touched something, he didn't know what, but something, deep inside, that had fireworks burst inside him.

"It's alright, John, shh," Angel pulled his tongue out of his ass to reassure him, partly leaning over John to cover his whining mouth with his hand, trying to muffle his needy noises. "It's okay, relax and just breathe deeper through your nose, good boy."

But John could not fucking focus on breathing because another finger went beside the first, scissoring inside, fucking  _ loosening  _ him, and nudged against that spot again that had his belly painfully clench. It felt so fucking good.

John took the fingers of the hand on his face in his mouth, sucking on two then three to try to subside his fucking indecent mewling as Angel rubbed against his sweet torture button. He was panting and drooling all over the digits and soaking the pillow, feeling like a fucking messy whore, but Angel didn't mind and pressed in deeper on both ends.

"I'm guessing you never knew about your prostate, did you, John?" Angel chuckled, peppering kisses along his back to help him ease the tension out of it. "But every man has it. That is what makes it pleasurable to have something up in there. Some enjoy it more than others." 

_ I'm some _ .

He fucked his fingers slowly in and out of his hole, better than John ever could have done before, stretching him so well and making it feel so good even without hitting that spot but making sure the pads of his fingers curled into it, bursts of pure ecstasy erupting from it.

_ Fuck _ , no wonder Tommy has this every single day.

The disgustingly wet noises Angel's fingers made, accompanied by his own lewd whining, had John's face color in shame, imagining what might happen if Angel's parents walked in on them, the sounds feeling too fucking loud. 

What would they say, seeing John kneeling on the bed, sucking on Angel's fingers and moaning like a whore with his ass pushed back and slick with their son's saliva and his hole stuffed with his fingers, abusing his prostate?

" _ Good for him? _ " John thought with a pleased little suck on those lovely big fingers.

"Does it feel nice, John? Do you like it when I touch you here?" 

Angel pressed down on the gland a bit harder at the next drag and John fucking crumbled with the force of the next orgasm that came from the act. He could barely hear his broken cries, held back partly by the digits pressing down on his tongue, but he couldn't give a fuck as he gave a full-body shiver and slumped down against the bed. His cock twitched the last of his release sandwiched between his belly and the ruined bedding, but John couldn't even fucking move to make it more comfortable. 

He was in fucking heaven.

He was numb from pleasure for a few minutes before he registered Angel's fingers pulling slowly out on both ends, making his slack mouth drool directly onto the pillow, and his ass feel so uncomfortably empty. He whined and sniffled at the loss of contact as Angel got up from the bed with one last kiss to the small of his back.

He wanted to ask him where he was going, but his mouth was fucking useless, his tongue heavy and his movements awfully difficult as he weakly turned with a pang of hurt in his chest, but Angel leaned down to kiss his cheek softly and pet his hair.

"I'm just going to get you a glass of water and a wet towel, and I'll be right back, alright?" Angel whispered, smiling reassuringly, "I'll be away for just a moment and come right back." 

John didn't want him to leave even for a single moment and grabbed after him, but Angel just kissed his knuckles, as he would with a lady, and stood back up. He noticed how Angel was still wearing his trousers; his erection must be killing him, trapped against his clothes like that, but he only cared about satisfying John. What a gentleman.

The butterflies in John's belly were starting to become fucking annoying.

Angel was true to his word, not leaving John alone for longer than a minute or two, and hurried back with a pitcher and a glass in one hand and a towel in the other. 

"Could you turn on your back for me, please?" Angel asked kindly while putting the glass and pitcher down by the bedside table. John complied with a groan, turning around like a lazy cat, but even that seemed like a great accomplishment to the older man. "Good boy, John, very good."

The towel was comfortably warm and wet where it wiped away the mess John made, rubbing gently over his belly, thighs, and spent cock. John watched with curiosity as Angel paid no attention to his own very prominent needs but busied himself with cleaning him up like some fucking nanny or caretaker.

John wondered if Angel did that because he pitied him for the lack of care he received as a child or if he was naturally this caring?

Was he trying to play-parent him? And if he did, was that his own fantasy, or did he assume it was John's?  _ Was it John's? _

"You did very well, John. I'm proud of you," Angel beamed after making John squeaky clean and put the towel to the side, moving on to pouring him a tall glass of water. He even fucking helped John sit up with his hands, gently grabbing him under his armpits to make John feel even more like a fucking toddler. 

"I can get up by myself," John weakly snarled but didn't fight against the manhandling and gratefully accepted the soft kiss pressed against his lips.

"I know you do, but I like to take care of you," Angel cheerfully replied, unaware of John's indecent thoughts about that, before standing tall again and bringing the glass close to John's lips. "Drink this, please. We have to keep you nice and hydrated."

John glared up with an embarrassed blush but didn't argue, taking a sip and letting Angel tilt the glass for him instead of taking it in his own hands. The older man was once again right: John didn't notice how thirsty he was until he started drinking, breathing loudly after every swallow and finishing his drink quickly. Angel praised him with a large hand patting at his hair, and John looked up into those warm brown eyes as he drank; it felt fucking perverted. 

John glanced down to Angel's crotch, which was at eye level now, with his sitting on the bed position, and confirmed that he was still so fucking hard. Why didn't he touch himself? Why didn't he shove his dick in him already?

"Good boy, John," Angel ruffled his hair as he would with an obedient puppy after he drank the last drop and put the glass to the side. "I'll lead you to the bathroom and let you shower off, alright?"

_ What? _

"What?" John frowned. Why would he need a shower now? "We're not done yet."

Angel shook his head with a pitying smile, "I think this has been enough excitement for you for the day, John. Besides, you got the answer to your question. You wanted to know how it feels like inside, and I helped you with that. You did very well; you made a lot of progress in one night. What you need right now is a bit of rest, trust me."

This bastard.

_ This fucking lying bastard _ .

John shook his head wildly and scowled, "No. No, you said you'd fuck me. I asked you to fuck me, and you said yes."

"John-," Angel started with another shake of his head, but John cut him off, attacking the buttons of his trousers and slapping away the hands trying to stop him furiously.

"You said if I asked you nicely, you'd give me anything, and I asked you fucking nicely to fucking fuck me, didn't I? I asked you so fucking nicely, so fucking-," John's growing tantrum cut short as Angel's cock sprung out of the confines of his pants and bounced right in front of his vision.

John can't say he hasn't seen other men's dicks before; he grew up with three brothers, one of which has an addiction to them, and he has been into the showers of the gym locker room as well as measured his own together with his friends like every teenage boy. He knew he laid in the comfortable middle of the size scale. He just never fucking seen one this big and this fucking close.

Angel was fucking  _ massive _ . 

John could only stare with his mouth agape; the thing was barely an inch from his face, and now he understood why Angel didn't want to pull it out before. He was probably concerned that John would fucking bolt and never look back when seeing it.

He hasn't seen Luca's erect cock without parts of it covered by Tommy, but he knew, if maybe not necessarily longer, Angel was much thicker. And probably about twice as big in every regard compared to John.  _ Holy fuck. _

John looked up at Angel with a mesmerized expression, the older man trying to gently peel John's grip off his trousers and step back as if he didn't just release a fucking obscene miracle, but his movements halted as John leaned forward and took the tip in his mouth.

He didn't even fucking think about it, just stared into Angel's shock-wide eyes as he moaned around it and slowly took a few inches more, letting his tongue explore the taste and texture. It was better than what he imagined.

"John," Angel gasped, one of his hands coming up to gently tug on his hair to get him to pull back, but it just made him want to sink lower with a muffled whine.

He felt fucking drunk on lust. His eyelids were too heavy, his mouth so full with his tongue weighed down comfortably by that thick fucking cock, and the taste was so deliciously salty and musky and so fucking much like Angel that John couldn't help but suck with the neediest fucking noise.

"John, don't-," Angel hissed, but his other hand was tracing along the hollow of his cheek, thumbing at the edge of his mouth and looking down at him with eyes so impossibly dark John might get lost in them.

He might have already done so.

John blinked up at him slowly before pulling back to the tip, letting Angel breathe out a sigh of relief, and then plunged forward, trying to take in more but choking as it hit the back of his throat.

"John, God, baby," Angel pulled him back and off worriedly, letting him cough and drool onto the sheets with a comforting hand on the back of his neck and the other reaching for the pitcher to get him a glass of water again. "Don't ever do that so suddenly, please, you're going to hurt yourself. Here, drink, good boy."

John obediently let Angel lift his chin and bring the glass to his lips again but pulled back after a few gulps, breathing heavily and looking up at him with a half-lidded gaze that he wanted to translate to "fuck me, please."

"Let me try again," John tugged on his trousers, trying to bring him back close, but Angel was resilient and kept him at a distance by his hair. "Come on. I'll do better."

"John, this is too much for you for one night," Angel shook his head, but he was clearly affected by John's tone, his cheeks flushed and his dick bobbing at the request. "You don't need to do this; I'm fine."

"But I want to," John bit his lip, so fucking flustered and wanting to taste him again. He batted his eyelashes, trying to give his best seductive gaze as he tugged on Angel's pants a bit more politely. "Let me suck your cock, please."

Shame left with the earliest fucking train, and he only felt an overwhelming amount of pride and satisfaction as Angel groaned, dragging a hand over his face, unable to resist. Funny how when others get flustered by what he says, he doesn't.

"John, don't look at me like that or ask me things like that, or I won't be able to control myself," Angel's voice dipped so fucking low and rumbled so rough, it made his brain fucking melt.

"I'll be so good for you," Angel's grip on his hair slackened, running his fingers through his hair as John looked up at him with nothing but pure desire and whispered so sweetly as Angel let himself move a bit more forward. "I'll be such a good fucking boy for you if you let me suck it, daddy."

He never used that word before, not to his own father, let alone in the bedroom, nor did any of the girls he has ever been with, and he didn't want them to, but he sometimes heard Tommy call Luca that, and it always drove him insane with lust, so it didn't hurt to try. Besides, it felt like Angel might unintentionally get a kick out of it, bringing up their age gap so often and whatnot.

He grimaced at the word when he heard Tommy moan it for the first time, but now John understood how uncannily it could fit an older man he wanted to sleep with and make passion punch him in the belly. And it didn't just affect him, luckily.

Angel's cock fucking jumped before pressing inside his waiting mouth slowly, the older man groaning and caressing all over John's head as he let him go down on him again.

" _ Fuck _ , baby boy," Angel never cursed, so this felt like the biggest achievement in John's life; he made Angel Changretta say  _ fuck _ . Put that on his tombstone. "Christ, don't-, ah, don't say that."

John kept eye-contact as his tongue swirled around the head, then sloppily bobbed down for some more, Angel keeping a careful hold on him to deny him to push his limits. John pulled back with a strong suck, his cheeks hollowed to create friction, his tongue playing with the underside, and his lips feeling puffy when he licked at them.

"Why? Do you not like it," John let the tip trace his lower lip as he grinned up, "Daddy?"

He might have doubted Angel before when he said he found him beautiful, but his eyes could not lie, and all they said was pure fucking desire. John never felt more wanted.

"No, it's not that-," Angel hissed as John took him back into his mouth, his short nails scratching at his scalp and his cock throbbing against his tongue as he bobbed down farther and farther. 

He held back his gag reflex when it hit the back of his throat this time, trying to make it as good as possible, even as his eyes watered, but knew he was only coming off as clumsy and desperate, with his drool dripping down his neck and his teeth grazing him more than once. 

But Angel still looked at him like he hung the fucking Sun.

"John, love, you'll have to stop, please," Angel's voice was so sexy and deep it made him suck harder, "John, please, let me pull out, or you'll make me come in your mouth."

Reality hit him again with those words, realizing he has been sucking a man's  _ dick  _ and fucking  _ enjoying  _ it this whole time. His father would drop dead and roll in his grave from this information, and for once, John agreed with Tommy one hundred percent when he thought:  _ good _ .

John's eyes widened at what Angel just said, pulling back and off his cock to take a few pants of air, his voice so fucking needy as he said, "Pretty please, daddy," and he gulped him down again, farther than before.

Angel was fucking speechless and only gave a few appreciative groans as he petted John through his ministrations. He needed only another minute or two more of that sloppy blowjob before he was gripping John's hair to politely pull him back enough that he didn't directly shoot down his throat and made him choke again.

"John, baby, I'm going to-," Angel groaned as John grasped and jacked at what Angel didn't let him fit in his mouth with both hands, watching him with pure adoration. "Daddy is going to come now, John, be good, yeah?"

John nodded dutifully and teased the tip while jacking him faster, excitement coursing through him as he felt the first spurts hit his tongue. It tasted salty and tangy like his own come, and he knew it must have just been the lust talking, but it kind of tasted better somehow? God, he truly lost his fucking mind.

He tried to swallow it all, but it was just too much coming too quickly, and it was so gooey and thick that some dribbled out and escaped from the corners of his mouth. He had to pull back to breathe for a minute, the last few spurts coating his lips and jaw, dripping down his chest, and John frowned at his own sloppiness but milked Angel through it, opening his mouth wide for him to dispose of the last drops on his tongue.

Angel was eerily silent, just panting and staring at John gathering the dribbles on his chest and around his mouth and suck them off his fingers as the remnants of his orgasm washed over him, and John had to look up and quirk a brow as he licked his abused lips and swallowed.

"What?" he knew his voice sounded so fucked, but at this point, he didn't care. He made another man come. He was riding that high to the grave. "Everything you put in my mouth is delicious, don't look so fucking surprised."

Angel just stared wide-eyed for another minute before he cradled John's face and rained kisses down on it like that was the last day on Earth. John didn't mind it, quite the opposite actually, but he grimaced when Angel kissed at his mouth.

"Ew, no, I just sucked you off, don't kiss me, that's gross," John mumbled, weakly pushing at Angel's chest, but the older man just kept them coming. He didn't know why he was trying to save Angel from his own delicious taste when the man already had his tongue up John's ass.

"No, it's wonderful, you're wonderful, John, such a wonderful, fantastic, beautiful little boy," Angel praised between kisses, "with gorgeous lips and a talented mouth that deserves all my kisses, and you can't tell me they don't."

"Shut up," John couldn't help but giggle as he pulled Angel back on top of him on the bed while accepting the earnest kisses, circling his waist with his thighs and his neck with his arms. He felt so loved. He never ever wanted to let go.

Angel didn't break the kiss as he searched around for the somewhere discarded jar of lubricant, and John wasn't about to ease his method of searching, but he didn't need to because the sound of the cap unscrewing was like a victory trumpet to his ears.

To think he started this day with the worst mood, and he was so scared of this happening, seemed laughable now; he could fucking reach for the moon in happiness.

"You've already loosened me up once, you know?" John bit playfully at Angel's lower lip, his grin dissolving with a moan as Angel's lubed-up index and middle finger gently entered him. "You made me so wet, daddy."

Angel groaned against the juncture of his neck, hiding in embarrassment, but his fingers didn't stop loosening him, "Good God, John, where did you learn to talk like this? I thought this was your first time."

John chuckled, nibbling on Angel's earlobe and scratching through his hair as he enjoyed his fingers, "It is, but your brother has been fucking mine next door for quite some time. They're annoying as fuck, but I can't help it if some things stick."  _ Like the fucking fantasies. _ "They made me curious about doing this as well, you know. Blame them."

Angel laughed warmly and kissed his cheek, "If they led you into my bed, then I'd rather thank them if I'm honest." He eased a third finger in, softly thrusting in and out, careful to not make John come too quick again. "Did they recommend you to me?"

John's lashes fluttered from the stretch, and his mouth opened in a wordless gasp before he replied against Angel's lips, "No, I made that decision myself. When I sat on you."  _ And you were bleeding from my hits and looked so fucking hot, and you were so fucking kind to me. _ "They don't know," he gave a brief kiss before looking back into his eyes, "They can never know. No one can."

He loved how Angel made him feel, but he had to think realistically. He could never let anyone know about this. Angel wasn't his boyfriend, even if he'd want him to be. 

_ Did he want him to be?  _ John banished the thought from his head before it could break his good mood.

"I know. I'll never tell, I promise," Angel pressed a reassuring kiss to John's forehead before he eased his fingers out of his passage, coating his rehardened member in a generous amount of lubricant as well. John's heart was beating out of his chest at the sight; he was going to do it. He'll finally do it.

John opened his legs wider, anxious but excited as he watched that large cock line up against his hole.

"Are you sure you don't want to do it from behind? Hide away?" Angel looked into his eyes, honest concern written on his handsome face, hesitant for John even as he was rock solid and could just shove it in and have his fun. 

Angel was the kindest man on Earth that just wanted to make John feel good and take care of him. He would do anything to make his first time ideal, even after everything John has said and done. He still saw the good in him and treated him with kindness and patience John didn't deserve.

And he was going to fuck John now.

John bit his lip and reached out to the side, turning the bedside lamp on, illuminating the room in a bonfire-warm glow, washing over Angel's perfect features and showcasing him in all of his glory for John to see. He cradled his stubbled jaw and grinned.

"No, I don't. I want to see you. I want to know that it was you."  _ I love you. _

Angel leaned into his hands and kissed his palm with the most adoring expression and then kissed his mouth in a similar way before whispering into it. "My beautiful, brave baby boy."  _ I love you. _

Angel slowly pressed in, careful and oh so gentle, but the burn and stretch still made John gasp into their kiss despite how thoroughly Angel tried to loosen him before.

" _ Fuck _ ," John moaned, his nails digging into the sides of Angel's neck as inch after inch slid in, seemingly going on forever, "fuck, it's so fucking  _ big _ ."

Angel just chuckled, trying to suppress his own noises, kissing John's slack mouth and whispering sweet promises, "You're doing so good, just a little bit more, that's it, gorgeous, just hold on a bit, alright? Good boy, John, so good for me."

John whined, feeling so fucking full, he thought he was going to fucking tear in two, but then Angel's hips finally met his cheeks, and he bottomed out, and John could exhale finally. Or as much as he could breathe, feeling like a whole cannon has been shoved inside him.

"It's in, all of it, you did fantastic, John, I'm so proud of you," Angel cheerfully praised with more kisses as if John didn't feel like he was a breath away from meeting his maker in the most absurd way possible.

He felt so fucking  _ full _ .

It was insane.

It was incredible.

After a minute of getting adjusted to the feeling, John's arms came around Angel's back and his ankles locked behind his waist. Angel squeezed him close, probably thinking John was asking for a fucking cuddle session, which he provided happily.

"Changretta," John breathed against his ear, "fucking move."

"As you wish," Angel chuckled but gently complied when John's legs and arms impatiently tried to get him into motion, scratching and nudging, and he mumbled a barely audible "please" to it.

He knew that Angel was making sure to keep it all one hundred percent gentle, but the first few drags still made John hiss and drag his nails down the older man's broad back. The pain quickly subsided, overtaken by an intense amount of pleasure with every thrust, and John was quick to encourage a change of pace.

"Faster, ah," John panted, trying to pull him in with his ankles more insistently.

Angel had the fucking nerve to grin into their next kiss and whisper, "Be a good boy and ask me nicely, John," while maintaining the same slow vanilla pace that made every inch all too apparent. Bastard.

John weakly glared up and licked into Angel's hissing mouth as he dug his nails in and drew them down to decorate that broad tan back with red ribbons. "Please, fuck me faster, daddy." 

Angel had to rest his forehead on his chest for a moment to recover from what John just said before he complied with a groan, "You're killing me, baby."

"Good," John chuckled at the misery he could bring the older man but was cut off by his moan as Angel's hips started gliding forward faster and faster. "It feels like you're killing me too, daddy."  _ I love you. _

The thrusts fastened by his legs, pulling Angel in, and his hips snapping off the bed to meet him halfway, and it felt so fucking  _ filling  _ and so fucking  _ good _ , especially when Angel's cock pressed against his prostate. It made his toes curl, and his moans turn so slutty, Angel had to cover his mouth with more kisses, trying to swallow them all down, but just like Angel's come, they dribbled out and made a fucking mess.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," John chanted in time with his thrusts, half-crazed from pleasure, Angel trying to quiet him down, but then he hit his sweet spot at just the right angle, and John fucking screamed. "Daddy, please!" he quieted himself down by pressing his open and mewling mouth against Angel's warm neck, letting his nails draw blood on his back as the pace quickened up to his liking.

He half noticed Angel's praises, whispered into his hair so sweetly even as he fucked into him so hard, but became very aware of the skin against his tongue. John licked and kissed at it in thank you, entirely enamored with the delicious feeling this perfect man could bring him and wanted it to continue forever.  _ I love- _

But it couldn't. 

Because they weren't a couple: Angel had Lizzie.

A pang of jealousy, something he felt for the other member of this relationship until today, struck a cold arrow into his happiness and lust-filled heart. 

How many times did she see him above her like that? Panting and gorgeous and perfect as he kissed her with so much love and passion. How many times did their sweat seep into his sheets, and their moans filled the room so heavily? How many times did those big warm hands caress her hips as that huge fucking cock drove into her so sensually?

And how many more times will it happen?

Lizzie was a lucky girl, but not just "lucky." She was deserving of it all. She earned this: she's perfect and lovely and kind and gorgeous too. 

But John wasn't.

And Lizzie was going to have this, have Angel like this, for a very long time; in a warm embrace, in utter love, and perfection.

But John wasn't. 

This night will stay just this night, and he will have nothing more with Angel. When the morning comes, this will become a memory and will be remembered as an eye-opening experience, and they'll bid each other goodbye; maybe John will steal one last kiss if he has the guts, and then they'll part. And they won't look back. 

And the  _ cold  _ that bit into his heart at the notion,  _ that  _ terrified the shit out of John. 

_ I love you. _

John didn't say it with words, fucking couldn't, but the tears falling down his face and seeping into the pillow were a hundred confession each as he embraced Angel closer and made him move faster, punching the moans out of him quicker that he muffled into his delicious skin.

Will Lizzie smell John on Angel's sheets? Will the scent of their fucking embed itself into the fucking mattress, so even if Angel washes the bedding right after, the memory of John will prevail? Maybe even on his skin too? 

Will she taste the tiniest hint of John in Angel's kiss? 

Will she see the want in his eyes for someone else? 

Did he  _ want  _ John? 

His nails dug in harder, his kiss to his neck running up, just above where he knew would be the collar, closing his lips around the spot, and he fucking  ** sucked ** . 

Angel's hips stuttered, his breath hitched, one hand coming to pull John gently back and away, but no, fuck that, John clung on for dear life, shredding up that perfect back, and sucked until it was painful for him too.

His scent, his taste, his desire might disappear, but he wasn't going to wipe himself from Angel's memory that easily. He was going to see this in the mirror in the morning and remember just how fucking well he fucked John and how good this was for weeks.

John released him after it felt like his tongue would fucking rip out from the suction, gasping at the angry purple and red hickey he made, blooming so beautifully and grinning up at Angel when he touched at it with a hiss.

"John, why did you-,"  _ Because I love you. _

John surged up to kiss him hungrily, urge Angel to go absolutely brutal, and gasped, "Fuck me, daddy, fuck me as hard as you've never fucked anyone before, please."  _ I love you. _

Angel rumbled into the kiss and couldn't help but give into John's demands, and it turned so fucking perfect. Every thrust forward nailing his sweet spot dead-on, the wet noises of flesh hitting flesh and their mutual moans filling the room, and John never came so hard in his life before when his cock felt the friction between their middles, and Angel fucking growled into his mouth and pounded him into the sheets.

"You're such a perfect little boy for Daddy, John."

And John agreed with his cock bursting between their bellies, and a high-pitched shriek fed into their messy kiss, his ass tightening from the force of it and making Angel gasp.

"John, let go, I'm going to-," Angel tried to lean back, pull out, but John just rocked back and pulled him back in, milking his prostate on his cock and not letting Angel get away.

"Inside. Come inside me, please," John moaned, even as over-sensitivity started to kick in. "I want to feel it."  _ I love you. _

Angel was too turned on not to comply, and after one, two, three more thrusts, he was coming inside John's tight passage with his teeth embedded into the juncture of his neck, biting down and muffling his moan. John kept him tightly there, enjoying the pain and the rocking sensation of Angel disposing of the last drops of his release, his movements slowing down gradually.

They both panted, boneless on the bed for a couple of minutes, riding out their highs in comfortable silence, and Angel dislodged his teeth to lick at the wound apologetically.

"Sorry, I marked you," Angel huffed, genuinely remorseful, "I usually have more control over this; I didn't mean to." _ I did. _

"It's okay; we'll call it quits," John chuckled, eyeing the pretty hickey he left high on Angel's neck. He wondered if it would stay longer than the bruises he gave him a week ago.

John turned to face Angel, his head resting beside him on the pillow, and they just stared at each other for a minute, observing how much pleasure they've brought the other before Angel smiled, "So, how did you like it, John?"

John bit at his bottom lip to try to hold back his grin, but it was a lost battle as he brattily replied, "It was fine."

Angel laughed, recognizing the call back to when John ate his heavenly lasagna, and then purred against John's lips, "Aha, just fine?"

John fucking giggled into their next kiss, squeezing Angel close to himself and nibbling on his bottom lip after every deep lick. "Maybe more than fine."

"That's good to hear," Angel pecked him on the lips and pulled back so they could stare at each other adoringly for another minute or two. "You're a miracle, John, you know that?"

_ I love you _ . "Shut up," John chuckled and buried his face back into Angel's neck to hide away.

When the cold air started to seep into their cooling sweat, Angel moved to pull his softening cock out with a sigh, but John's ankles halted his movements, pressing him back down and in, his thoroughly fucked hole giving a disgusting squelching sound.

"John, let me pull out, please."

"Not yet, a few more minutes, please," he didn't want to feel empty again. "You're warm." _ I love you. _

Angel puffed out a breath that was more of a tired laugh than a scoff and maneuvered them under the covers without pulling out of John's body or dislodging his limbs curled around him. "Let me at least turn us over; if I lay on you like this, I'll crush you, John."  _ Please. _

"Just a few more minutes," John yawned, fighting to keep his eyes open, trying to hold onto reality for once and not lose even a single moment with Angel, "please." _ I love you. _

He wasn't sure if this time he only said it in his head or out loud because Angel stilled and looked at him, but John couldn't decide it in time, sleep pulling him under the very next moment, and he sank into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this leave a kudo and a comment and tell me your thoughts as well as find me on Tumblr @abusivelittlebunny


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes up in Angel's bed and a good morning quickly takes its turn for the worse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I can't keep anything short so I split the last chapter up as well, don't mind me...
> 
> Song inspiration: Charlotte Cardin - Dirty, Dirty  
> This is a fucking anthem m8 check it out if you can it is the mood for this chapter 1000%

John woke with a groan muffled into the soft pillow to the sound of the restaurant guests; coming early to occupy the tables outside, chattering and clinking their spoons against their teacups, slurping on their coffee and munching on their freshly made breakfast.

It took him a minute to realize why he heard those particular noises instead of the banging of the headboard next door, but when his mind came to, his slow breathing stopped for a second. 

Oh, right. 

He fell asleep in Angel's bed.

He knew he should jump out of it and leave, but he just buried his face deeper into the bedding, absorbing Angel's warm and musky scent from the material, and hummed contently at the relaxing feeling it brought his aching body.

He knew from observing Tommy previously post-fuck with Luca that it is hard to sit and walk right after taking something so big up the ass, but as he turned his body and the pain shot up his spine, he realized he didn't prepare enough for the feeling. But it's not like he minded after the first whimper, trying to adjust to the discomfort, as he wrapped himself deeper into the soft blanket; the dull ache was actually something quite pleasing, like a trophy embedded inside him.

It was a reminder of how good sex was last night.

John giggled into the sheets and curled in on the pillow, remembering how Angel gently held him, then fucked into him so hard when John asked him to. Seeing him lose control from how slutty John acted gave quite a burst to his ego. The praises, the sweet kisses, and sensual touches were all so much better than what he fantasized about before. It was by far the best fuck of his life. 

He hadn't felt this happy or relaxed in years.

John blinked his eyes open and emerged from his blanket cocoon as he heard Angel's voice faintly from outside, telling a customer something cheerfully in Italian. 

He let John sleep late while he went down to work.

That was very sweet, but he half wished Angel to wake him up for a good morning fuck, with John still hazy and yawning as the older man used his body however he would like to. He would be too sleepy to protest, just mewling along lazily with every thrust while Angel whispered sweet nothings into his neck, rocking his barely conscious body.

His cock twitched in agreement that, yep, that fantasy should come true at some point.

John rubbed at his eyes and quickly regretted trying to sit up, his lower half aching too much, so he slumped back down with a huff. He will have to get used to that. 

As he looked up from the pillow and to the side, he noticed a tray on the bedside table. John nudged his upper body up from the bed, seeing that it contained breakfast, prepared by Angel. 

Two croissants, fresh and smelling divine, with butter and jam placed on the side, and a cup of coffee with plenty of cream and sugar arranged next to it; Angel even put a fucking rose on the tray with a note.

John scooted closer, digging in with enthusiasm, and checked the note while he stuffed his face full with the delicious pastry.

  * _Good morning, gorgeous,_



_ I have to work and part from you earlier than I'd like but think of every bite of your breakfast as a kiss from me to you. I hope you have no regrets about last night; I know I don't. _

_ You were such a good boy, my dear, I'm so proud of you, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for letting me help you with something so important. You're a miracle. _

_ Eat and stay as long as you'd like; I'll be downstairs if you have any questions or would like to talk! _

_ Angel _

John blushed, twirling the rose between his fingertips, and ate more to try to fight down the grin spreading across his features. The older man really knew how to make John into a bashful maiden.

He ate everything that has been served to him, licking the tiny jar of jam clean, adding all the cream and three spoonfuls of sugar to his lukewarm coffee as he slowly managed to get up into a semi-sitting position. He slurped it down as he managed to look outside the window, resting his forearms on the sill and watching the guests and waiters walk around and do their business. Angel was there too.

John bit his lip, his heart soaring as he watched the older man walk between tables, pouring coffee and serving each guest with polite small talk and a cheerful attitude, and John just wanted to jump from the window and into his arms.

It was funny, how until yesterday, John lived by his father's cruel words, saying that two men sleeping together was a disgusting sin, and now his first love turned out to be the first man that fucked him.

John didn't feel nearly as bad about it as he expected himself to be; there was a pang of guilt, but the warmth he felt pool in his chest as he watched Angel work heavily overshadowed it. And Angel was right; just because he was in love with him and found him the most attractive person on Earth didn't mean that he can't like girls too. There was no rule against it now, was there? How could he limit himself to only one half of attractive people when there were so fucking many? It made no sense now.

He watched the people go by and noted each person he found hot, and there were plenty on both fields. That blonde girl in the pink dress, the baker arriving with a fresh new load, another girl walking by with braided brown hair and a blue dress, she had a cute dog too, that's a bonus, the lady in purple sipping her tea, and her husband with the mustache wasn't bad looking either. He was an older gentleman, but John had a thing for that, apparently. Another man, nice arms, another girl, red hair, another man, big beard, another girl, green dress, and she happily jumped into the arms of-,

Angel.

It took John a moment to realize that it was Lizzie, in the green dress, she had a white hat on, but then she kissed him on the mouth, and her face came to view. Angel spun her around, then put her down with plenty more kisses, and she hung onto his arm as he poured tea with the other. The customers around them looked on adoringly, saying sweet comments about the young couple.

Right. Angel loved Lizzie. 

He knew that before too, so why did it hurt so much now? 

John scoffed at the pain in his chest and the unease in his belly as he watched Angel turn to give another kiss to Lizzie, who had her arms wrapped around his neck. John, however, almost jumped out of his skin as Angel looked up and straight over her head to the window, making eye-contact with him, fucking catching him lurking.

John fell to the floor, hiding away from his gaze and clutching at his pained chest as his heart beat rabbit fast. He whined from the awful fucking feeling, even more uncomfortable than the ache in his ass, shuddering as he felt Angel's come leaking from it onto the floor.

He loved Angel. But Angel loved Lizzie.

Fuck.

He was never going to have Angel like this again or earn his affection. That's Lizzie's privilege.

_ Fuck. _

John buried his face into his hands, digging his fingertips into his skin to give a better excuse for the tears bubbling behind his eyelids, and muffled his whines into his palms. His body hurt all over. Mostly inside. In his hole. And so fucking deep in his fucking ribcage.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. _

He cannot let himself be fucking heartbroken over a one-time experimental fuck.

He can't.

He's more rational than that. 

He has to be.

John allowed himself a couple of minutes to gather himself, trying to do the breathing exercise Angel showed him before, then hauled himself up with a wince, stepping far back from the window. He had to fucking leave.

He didn't even notice the full-length mirror hung on the wardrobe door before, but now it came in handy as he started to work on redressing himself in his clothes from yesterday, all neatly folded on a chair to the side. 

He sniffled and marveled at his reflection as he saw the bitemark Angel left behind on his neck, not high enough to be noticed when dressed but prominent enough that it won't heal in less than a week. He ran his fingertips over the scar, remembering how remorseful Angel was about it and how he said he usually has more control. John had to be exceptional then if he could get him like this. 

He wanted to be exceptional to Angel. So fucking much.

John gnawed on his lower lip and opened the closet, plunging his face into Angel's shirts to breathe in his scent, but whined at how overly clean they all smelled. He wanted that musk that he tasted on his skin while they fucked, but he could hardly steal the sheets for that. But John noticed the laundry basket on the side, and hope flooded back in.

He felt like a perverted schoolboy, taking out Angel's used clothes and fucking pressing them to his nose while rubbing against the sheets, but fuck, this might be the last time he would be able to do so, so he deserves a bit of slack. It was better than fucking snow.

Angel's clothes were all bigger than his size, so he couldn't just steal a shirt; that would be noticeable, but he could maybe get away with taking his undershirt. He'll tuck it in very well and roll up the sleeves. 

Anything just to take a piece of him away.

John checked himself in the mirror as he finished dressing, and yes, if he does his suit-jacket buttons up, you can't tell that anything would be out of place. Besides, people will focus on his fucking summer trousers anyway.

He thought about washing himself up, but he found a sick delight in keeping the scent on him as long as he could and didn't want to run into Angel's parents in the bathroom, so he just put a handkerchief in his underwear and prayed that no one would stop him on his run home.

He pocketed away the rose and note, took a deep breath, and set out to go back home without anyone noticing that he might have been around the Changretta house.

He carefully walked out of the room, his limp killing him but desperately trying not to make even a creak on the wooden floor, as he crept across the hallway and down the stairs. The door leading out to the restaurant was right there, and John knew there was a back exit by it; he just needed to get through that first without anyone taking notice-

"Good morning, John."

Fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck.

John slowly turned his head, already almost at the fucking door, to see fucking Luca sitting on the armchair at the other side of the room, right below the stairs, so John couldn't have seen him until now, sipping on his fucking coffee with the morning paper in his hand.

Luca smiled like a wolf that just found a deer stuck in a hunter's trap, and John has never felt the blood drain from his face faster. He knew he should fucking run, but he found his body completely frozen in fear, betraying him at his time of need.

"Did you sleep well?" Luca's grin didn't disappear as he took another drink from his cup and put it on the saucer with a delicate clink by his side without breaking eye-contact. "I bet you did, after the long night you had to yourself."

Fuck.

He knew. 

Luca fucking  _ knew _ .

John inched slowly backwards to the door, cold sweat dripping down his spine and his hand trembling as he tried to search for the door handle without looking away; he had to get the fuck out of here.

"Leaving so soon? Where's the hurry?" Luca chuckled as he got up with liquid-smooth elegance and walked, no, fucking prowled calmly over to him. "Are you not even going to take your hat and your coat, hm?"

John didn't even notice them hung on the clothes-hanger by the door and almost forgot about them entirely. Thinking back, he left them in the restaurant. But he felt unable to even fucking reach for them, only glance at them briefly when Luca pointed them out as he came closer and closer until he was looming over him with barely a few inches distance between them. 

Is this how the rabbit feels, staring into the opening jaw of the fox?

"Or did you plan to come back and get them some other time? Maybe you'd like to move in and just wanted to pop out to notify your family first, yeah, before slipping back into Angel's bed?" Luca's grin spread. "Wouldn't mind it if you asked me; no, I enjoyed the show last night very much. You almost made me applaud with how well you took his cock for your first time. You learned a lot from your big brother, didn't you, John?"

John couldn't answer, just stared back into those piercing green eyes.

He never felt so fucking scared in his life.

John grabbed the handle without breaking eye-contact, but Luca just tutted in mock-disapproval and gently pattered his hand away.

"We're having a conversation here, sweetheart, future brother-in-law to brother-in-law, don't be rude," Luca wagged a finger like a scolding teacher, then went back to his Cheshire grin. "You know, I actually felt bad for you, having to listen to me fucking your beloved brother so often, you see; I also share a very, very thin bedroom wall with my brother; I knew it couldn't have been easy. But it came to your advantage last night, no? I know it did for me," Luca purred with a fucking wink.

He couldn't fucking do this anymore.

John turned lightning-fast, wrenching the door open, but he could barely open it an inch or two before Luca slammed it shut above his head and forcefully turned him back around with a cruel grip on his jaw. Luca pressed him flat against the door, caging him in and forcing him to crane his neck up and keep eye-contact, and John could only claw weakly at his wrist in a desperate attempt to escape.

"I know very well what pretty noises you make when getting fucked, how lovely you cry, and how politely you beg to suck a cock," Luca seethed against John's whimpering mouth, "but I also know that it was you who did that to my brother's face."

John stilled against the hold.

Oh,  _ fuck _ .

Luca was going to fucking murder him right now.

The grip eased a little as John's trashing stopped, and Luca continued with a sinister smirk, "Now, Angel could never, no, God bless his heart, never, but  ** I ** .  ** I  ** could  ** very  ** easily mess up your pretty face too." Luca nodded as if he needed to confirm it before lightheartedly continuing, "He may have fucked you and forgiven you, the charitable soul that he is," his tone turned cold and deadly serious again, "But take my word. Take my word as the holy scripture when I say."

Luca leaned in closer to snarl right into John's ear, and he covered John's mouth to muffle the cry for help that he might let out at his threat as he continued in an even lower voice, every word measured out.

"You hit my brother again, and I'll shove my dick so far up your virgin delight ass that you'll choke to fucking death on it," Luca smirked as John's whimper came out even more pathetic with the hand over his mouth. "And it won't be anything like the sweet honeymoon fuck that Angel gave you, oh no. Here your slutty little cries will be for begging me to stop instead of to go harder. Trust me; I can be the best lover, and I also can make a lifetime's worth of prison gang rape feel like a five-star vacation resort massage session compared to a night with me."

John didn't realize he was shaking and crying until Luca pulled back to hush him softly, as he would with a fussy baby, wiping at his cheeks gently with the hand that wasn't holding back his noises.

"Aw, none of that, honey, you know it's not going to happen now, don't you? No, you won't go through the worst agony of your life and shit blood for a month because you're a good boy who knows that that's what would happen if you raised your hand on him again, right?" Luca smiled like a psychopath.

John nodded with a muffled whine, tears pouring down his cheeks and his body trembling uncontrollably. Luca cooed, taking his hand off, and nudged his index and middle finger into his mouth, his ring softly knocking against John's teeth as he caressed his tongue. John could only take it, opening his lips to give access and softly closing them around the digits with a swallow as his cheeks heated up in humiliation. 

He knew if he tried to protest, Luca would break his fucking jaw.

"That's right, you're a good boy, John," Luca bit his own lip in delight as John instinctively sucked on his digits, "You like to be called a good boy, don't you? You like it when you get praised by Daddy?" John fucking sobbed as he nodded shamefully in reply, humming around the fingers. "Then you better act like a good boy, or Daddy will lose his temper, and you do not want that, John. You don't want Daddy to get angry."

Luca reached deeper and pressed down, making John choke, and he didn't let off until John crumbled to the ground, coughing and on the verge of vomit. John clung to Luca's pant leg as he heaved for air, staring at his designer shoes until Luca raised his face with a fist in his hair. John fucking whimpered as his drool trickled down his jaw.

"Oops, forgive me. My aggression sometimes slips up. I've been patient enough for the last week; I could barely hold myself back from just walking into your room and knocking your pretty teeth out and fuck your bloody mouth to teach you a lesson; if not for Angel begging me not to, I would have."

John stared up with teary eyes, breathing heavily, sniffling and biting his lips, whispering brokenly, "Tommy would never forgive you if you hurt me." Seeing how that made the smile freeze off the taller man's face, John hiccuped and continued, "He would hate you forever. He would fucking kill you."

Luca's eyes widened for a moment before his grin spread back on, this time much colder, his grip on John's hair pulling him up to his knees, "Careful, John. You might make me do good on the fantasy that I just described." Luca chuckled, his other hand cradling John's jaw and thumbing on his bottom lip, "You have that type of bratty mouth that is begging to get fucked even without words. No wonder my brother couldn't resist it. Don't make my self-restraint even more fragile." 

John flushed as Luca gently patted his cheek and then pulled him up by the collar with ease. John felt like a newborn calf, almost stumbling if not for Luca holding him up with one hand, the other taking his coat and hat off the hanger. Luca dressed John in them like a doll, and he let him, still too scared to even think about fighting back as the taller man took out a napkin and wiped at John's face.

"Now, when someone makes a blatant threat like that to me, I don't take it so kindly, no. I already have a little mental list of what I would do to you, but Angel is very fond of you, so as a good brother, I won't be breaking his doll just yet. And as for Tommy," the hand around John's throat didn't squeeze, but the threat was there, "If you so much as breathe a word to him of this, I'll throw you in a room where my colleagues will make sure your holes will be plenty used to cock, and cut some new ones on you too to enjoy."

Luca released him and adjusted the cap on John's head, ignoring his shivering, and then when satisfied, he took a heavily decorated gift basket from the side and put it in John's arms to hold. Where the hell did that come from all of a sudden? 

"Now, we're going to walk you home and act as if you came over to help me carry some things to give you an alibi. My generosity is through the roof today. How very lucky for you that we have the same destination; for me to fuck  _ your  _ brother and for you to get  _ my  _ brother's spunk out of your ass." Luca took in with sick glee as John blushed wildly and tore his eyes away, "Begging for him to come inside; you really are Tommy's blood, you filthy little cumslut."

John wanted to bury himself six feet under, but Luca just grabbed a similar basket and held him close with an arm around his shoulder, steadying him as they walked out. John was almost thankful for it; his limp was less noticeable with Luca dragging him along. Too bad the guy was a sadistic freak.

John tried to keep a low profile, but of course, Luca had to fucking wave at Angel and Lizzie, coming closer to them with an awfully wide fucking grin as they exited the restaurant. 

"Ah, the sweet couple! Made for each other truly; Lizzie, my dear, that dress is almost as gorgeous as you!" Luca fucking shouted.

John peeked out from under his cap to see Angel shocked and frankly uneasy with Luca holding onto John like that, his face telling a whole fucking story as he gave an uncomfortable little laugh, glancing back and forth between them. 

Lizzie's smile was honest and cheerful as she gave a little twirl, her skirt billowing around her ankles, and gave a little giggle, "Ah, Luca, you know how to make one blush," in John's case, of shame. "Don't steal me from your darling brother just yet!"

Luca laughed along, squeezing John close, making both him and Angel increasingly uncomfortable, "If I didn't prefer the backside of boys, this one's lovely brother's, for example, you'd be in serious danger, carina!"

Lizzie just chuckled, unaware of how in danger John felt at the moment, but luckily Angel wasn't blind to it.

"Luca, could we talk in private for a minute, please?" Angel tried to keep his tone light and polite, but his eyes pointedly bore into Luca's as his brother pulled the boy in his hold closer and rested his jaw on John's head condescendingly.

"I'm afraid we're on a tight schedule; we have to take the big news far and wide, but don't worry, afterwards we will have time to talk." Luca grinned and tugged lightly on John's ear, "Don't worry, I'm not going to eat him; John just offered to help. He's such a good boy, isn't he?"

Angel's jaw tightened, his usual sunshine smile nowhere, but Lizzie didn't look at him to notice, only paid attention to what Luca just said and then back down to John with pure joy.

"Oh, he did?" Lizzie pressed a grateful little kiss to John's cheek, and he never felt more humiliated in his life. "Thank you so much, John; I'm so glad you'd do something like this for me. It shows that you really care for me. Thank you." 

Lizzie tried to look him in the eye to show how honestly she meant that, but John felt like if he were to do that, he'd fucking fall apart, so he kept his gaze on the flowers and biscuits in the gift basket.

"It's no trouble," John mumbled, not even sure what they were talking about in the first place.

Luca chuckled and steered them away with a quick goodbye, then when they were out of earshot, he leaned down and bit at the shell of John's ear.

"It's no trouble for you to take her boyfriend's load, hm? On both ends too, you greedy little whore," Luca whispered with a cruel laugh, and John wanted to fucking fall to the ground and cry. But Luca held him the whole way home, so he had no chance for that luxury.

They paused just before the door, John eager for the safety his family should provide, and Luca bowed his head to speak softly against the side of his neck. John half-assumed he was going to rip his flesh out with his teeth.

"Remember; a wrong word, or even a suspicious fucking look towards Tommy, and I'll bring you hell the same way Angel brought you breakfast. Into your bed, while you sleep, so you wake with a surprise." Luca's little kiss against his skin felt like a razor-sharp blade grazing it, and John could only nod and bite back his whimper. "Good boy."

Luca threw open the door with a joyous shout of "good morning," John's family greeting him back with varied enthusiasm. Ada and Finn greeted back with similar friendly smiles; they loved Tommy's boyfriend. Polly raised her teacup and gave a knowing little smirk, also favoring Luca. Arthur grumbled, still not fond of how Luca debauches his favorite little brother; if only he knew how he threatened another one.

Luca raised Finn up in the air when he jumped at him, laughing as he plopped the basket onto the kitchen table to catch the rascal and give him a spin before putting him back down, "You're growing way too fast, bambino. I'll have to put you in the oven quick, before you get too big to fit."

The others laughed at the lighthearted joke as Luca ruffled Finn's hair, but John paled, knowing even the lightest threats have merit coming from Luca's mouth. 

As if remembering that he has a captive, Luca squeezed John close with one arm again, theatrically motioning with the other. "I was just on my way to tell you, good people, the happy news when I ran into our dear Johnny over here, stumbling out of some poor half-naked girl's house with his pants barely done up." Luca threw John into Arthur's arms with a light laugh at his clumsy stumbling, "You must take better care of the young man, or he'll find himself in serious trouble."

John hid his blushing face behind his cap, Arthur gleefully embracing him and patted him on the back, telling him how, "That's my boy! Which lass was it, eh?" but John just wanted to fucking disappear.

Thankfully Ada chirped up, taking the attention away from John, "What are the happy news?"

"My dear brother and Lizzie are engaged and to be married this Spring!" Luca clapped his hands together, "You're all invited, of course, and we hope you enjoy the invitation gifts they prepared!"

His family all shouted happily at the table, but John just felt like the ground under him tore open, and hell swallowed him in an instant.

Angel and Lizzie are getting married.

John could only stare blankly ahead, his stomach overtaken by some vicious cold emptiness that spread through his body and numbed his mind. 

Angel is going to get married. To Lizzie.

Dating is one thing; it makes John feel uneasy that Angel has a girlfriend, and Lizzie, out of all people, but nowhere near as much as to think Angel was to marry her. 

It feels like a final stab into John's heart.

It was awful to think about it, but he had a sick little fantasy, hidden deep inside, so far down, that he barely spared it a thought, and it only reared its ugly head at the height of ecstasy last night. That Angel would break up with Lizzie and choose John.

It was a stupid, cruel, horrible idea, he knew, but he couldn't help the sadistic satisfaction it brought him as Angel thrust into him faster and kissed him so passionately. It was silly to dream about having that pleasure every day like Tommy. But he wanted it so fucking much his mind was going to burst.

And now, it will never happen. 

John knew there wasn't much of a chance for it to happen anyway, but even that sliver of hope getting stubbed out felt unbearably painful. He wanted to fucking scream, but he just remained numb and dumb.

He almost fucking fell off the chair as Luca clapped him on the shoulder, bringing him back to reality.

"Now, where is my beautiful beloved on this fine morning, hm?" 

Luca's cheerful tone sharply contrasted Tommy's cold voice coming from the stairs.

"So, now you want to see me, eh?" 

John looked up to see Tommy fully dressed, slowly walking down the steps with an unlit cigarette between his fingers, refusing to spare even a look at Luca. The older man just turned to him with his arms spread wide for Tommy to jump in, as if he were trying to befriend a vicious alley cat.

"Amore mio! There you are, my little moon! Come here, baby boy! Give Daddy a good morning kiss!" Luca's purr made Arthur next to John fucking growl, but Tommy didn't take it kindly either, lighting his cigarette and coldly sidestepping Luca.

"Daddy can go fuck himself, for all I care," Tommy poured himself some tea at the table, ignoring Luca and shaking off his touch when he tried to touch his waist. "Go away; I have work to do."

Luca tutted, turning Tommy's face gently towards him with a hand under his chin, speaking in a honey-sweet voice, "Aw, did my pretty baby miss me last night? I'm sorry, carino; I had a busy evening and couldn't come over to play with you."

Tommy blew smoke into his face and glared knives through his skull, "So fucking busy; you couldn't even bother to give a call," he wrenched his face out of the hold and moved to walk past Luca and to the door, "Now, the baby is going to be too busy to even think about you for a week. Enjoy your right hand, Mr. Changretta."

Luca rolled his jaw and chuckled before taking Tommy with a hand wrapped around his middle, stopping him effectively and plucking the cigarette from his mouth, taking a drag. "You know I love it when you act the feisty little tart, Thomas, but Daddy had a very long night and isn't in the mood to entertain that right now."

Tommy tried to trash defiantly against the hold as he seethed, "I don't give a fuck, let me go, you bastard!"

"You don't, but I'll give you several, carino," Luca smirked before swiftly throwing Tommy's significantly smaller body over his shoulder, ignoring his cursing and kicking. Luca just put the cigarette between his lips and gave a light slap to Tommy's ass, making him give out a pathetic little noise as the taller man made their way up the stairs. "Enjoy the gifts, everybody; there are earplugs in the basket that may come in handy in a minute."

Arthur scoffed while Polly and Ada just laughed at the implications, but all of them started eagerly searching amongst the gifts.

"So which girl did you sleep with last night, eh, John-boy?" Arthur grinned, turning towards him and inhaling two biscuits, "And don't spare the details; I know when a shag makes you pass out and stay until morning can only be on the fucking great scale, so, how was it?"

John swallowed, still feeling like roadkill, while he mumbled, "It was," and reached over to munch on some of the sweets as well to mask how fucking depressed he sounded. He knew Angel must have made them delicious, but the taste just turned to ashes in his mouth. "The best fuck I've ever had, to be honest."

He almost fucking wept, but Arthur didn't notice how John's voice broke, only shook him by the shoulder in joy and laughed, "That's my brother! 'Knew you'd be able to get back on the field, didn't I? And which fair maiden gave you the best fuck of your life, eh?"

"Arthur, don't fucking say shit like that with Finn at the table, for fuck's sake! No one wants to bloody hear about who you dip your filthy dicks into." Ada shouted, missing the point as well.

Arthur raised a hand in apology but still looked over in eager anticipation to John, who just hid behind his cap and stuffed his mouth full with biscuits to buy himself some time.

"I can't say," he whispered and shook his head after a minute, "it would get me in trouble. She's not single."

Arthur nodded, trying to match John's seriousness, but then burst out in a chuckle and rubbed John's capped head with good humor, "My little homewrecking brother, eh? Even a married woman can't resist your charm; that calls for a drink tonight!"

John tried to force a smile on, laugh together with the others, but it felt like the sky fell on his shoulders; his head was so fucking heavy, and it was so hard to breathe or stay upright.

"Sure, sure, let me just take a shower, right?" John climbed out from behind the table, ignoring Ada and Arthur fighting over the last cinnamon almond dessert and the creaking coming from upstairs accompanied by Tommy's moans as he made his way over to the bathroom. He just wanted some quiet and to be fucking alone.

He shredded his clothing without actually giving it any thought, numbly staring at the tiles until he was pulling his undershirt off his head and the scent hit him.

Angel's scent.

He had to pause and take a few deep breaths, swallowing the tears threatening to bubble up as he slowly inhaled through the material, trying to relax his mind. Angel had such a calming smell.

A smell that John was about to wash off, only to never feel it on his skin again.

He wanted to let his knees give out and fall to the floor, but he only allowed himself to cry once he was naked and standing under the shower, the water running masking his sobs as he started leathering himself with soap. 

He bit at his knuckles as he started fingering out Angel's come from his tender hole, hissing at the ache and whining at the feeling of the seed running down his thighs. All he had now of him was the undershirt he stole and the bitemark that would fade too quickly, just like his scent.

John rested his head against the wall and let the water rush down his back, his tears undetectable amongst all the other drops. He knew this experience was just as insignificant on the larger scale of things and that he should forget about it; let the water wash it off together with all the dirty thoughts and fantasies he cradled for Angel, but fuck, they stuck like glue to his skin.

He let himself cry for all the things he didn't allow himself to do so before and thought about the way Angel smiled at Lizzie, looking at her with the adoration of a man that was ready to marry her, and cried harder.

Of course, she deserved to marry Angel like no one else. She was perfect. And John was just John. But it still hurt worse than a fucking bullet.

He only got out from the bathroom once Tommy started banging on the door, signaling a pause in their fuckfest, reminding John of the passage of time. He must have been in there for more than an hour, shit.

"John, fucking get out already," Tommy scoffed, his voice hoarse from screaming.

"Wait a bloody minute, eh?" John snapped back, sounding similarly strained, just from crying.

He hastily put on his underwear and Angel's undershirt, rushing past Tommy with the rest of his clothing in his hands, ignoring his brother decorated wildly with hickeys and bite marks, and into his room, slamming the door behind himself. He didn't want to know how well Luca fucked him now. Not when John will never feel that good again.

He climbed atop his bed and buried his face in the pillow, muffling his disappointed whine when it didn't smell like Angel, and grunted when someone opened the door without knocking. He was really not in the mood for company.

"Get the fuck out."

"You really should learn to be more polite with me, John," Luca's chuckle sent a shiver down his spine, and he looked up to see the tall shirtless fucker loom smugly in the doorway, a new cigarette etched into his smirk. "Remember; you don't want to see Daddy angry."

John squeezed the pillow close as if it would give him any protection, scrambling back to the edge of the bed and staring up wide-eyed as Luca sat down next to him, reaching out and combing John's hair out of his face with his fingers. 

"Don't be rude. Come on; you're a good boy, aren't you, John? Apologize nicely."

John trembled, gnawing on his lower lip, but then the fingers in his hair tugged painfully, and he winced, "I'm sorry."

Luca chuckled, his sweat-slick abs shining in the dull light and way too close for John's comfort, "You left out a very important part, darling. Try again."

John whimpered as Luca gave a light smack to his ass. He wanted to fucking evaporate in shame, "I'm sorry... Daddy," his voice was weak and small, but the older man took it with an approving nod.

"Very good, John, such a good boy." Luca ruffled his hair and sighed, "Who would have thought that it'd be this much fun to mess with your empty little head? If I didn't already bag the prettiest of the Shelby bunch and just emptied myself in his throat, you'd be in quite some danger, John."

John tried to glare as best as he could, but to Luca, who was by now used to Tommy's icy gaze, the attempt was pathetic.

"Aw, don't be grumpy, baby; your brother spoiled me with his beauty. And while I may not, Angel definitely does appreciate your pretty face with the right amount of love," he exhaled smoke through his nose as he licked his teeth, "but not with the most, hm?"

John tried to look away, not wanting Luca to see him cry again, but the grip in his hair turned vicious again, and he winced, trying to scratch at the older man's wrist again.

"Does it hurt that you're no one's first choice? Is it painful to know you'll never take center stage in anyone's life?" Luca's mean grip subsided when John gave out a whimper a bit too loud, and he got off the bed with a chuckle. Tommy might be showering right now, but he didn't need to raise the awareness of the other members in the house, "I'll be staying over tonight; give you a good show since you won't be performing for a while, yourself."

Luca stubbed out his cigarette on the wall, and John massaged at the roots of his hair, "Why do you do this to me?"

Luca arched his brow, shrugging, "I don't appreciate when anyone hurts my family, and this is more fun than just simply putting a bullet through your skull. I like to see cute boys in pain as much as I like to see them in pleasure, and I could never hurt your brother like this." Luca winked, "Just like Angel, I too cherish the one I love more than that. But you wouldn't know of that."

John buried his face back into the pillow as Luca left with a sly smile and a wave, and muffled his scream into the soft material.

This fucking cruel  _ bastard _ .

John was already suffering enough as it is, but of course, Luca has to kick at him too. John hit the bedding in frustration, then tried to calm himself by sniffing at Angel's undershirt, pulling it up to cover his nose. The sleeves were long enough to cover his fingers, and John rubbed at them in an attempt to try to distract himself. But it was a much more difficult task than he imagined.

Everything he tried to think about led back to Angel, and after a while, John just gave in and tried to fall asleep to the memory of his sweet smile, his warm touch, and the delicious taste of his on John's tongue.

He missed him so much.

If Angel were here right now, he would hold John close and tell him what a good boy he is and reassure him that everything will be alright while hugging him tightly.

_ "It's alright, John, shh. It's okay, relax and just breathe deeper through your nose, good boy." _

And John did, slowly calming himself down until someone opened his door again and sat down on the bed. John froze, unable to breathe or turn around to check who it was. Luca was going to hurt him again-, he will, he-,

"I heard that you took the engagement pretty hard." 

John has never felt more grateful to hear Tommy's tired voice, and he turned to see him sitting gingerly on his bed with a cigarette in his mouth, his skin still wet where the bathrobe fell from his shoulder. He looked absolutely fucked out, even fresh from the shower; Luca did quite the number on him, but that was what Tommy liked.

Tommy rubbed at his eyes and exhaled around the cigarette perched between his lips. "Luca told me how miserable you were when he found you and how you're still crying from it; he cares, you know?"  _ He does the fuck. _ "I know it's hard, but John, you have to let go of this crush. You'll find another; trust me."

John bit at the pillow and glared up after a minute, his eyes still wet, "What if someone told you that about Luca, hm?"

Tommy shook his head, "That's entirely different-,"

But John didn't let him finish, fed up and tired himself, "Let's say it wasn't. What if Luca was to marry someone else and leave you behind, and everyone around you just said "get over it"?" John continued, his voice breaking, "And what if the person that he'd marry was absolutely perfect and done you no other harm besides getting the love you want from him?"

Tommy was silent for a minute, staring back into John's heartbroken eyes before smoothing back the wet locks dripping into his vision and sighing, "You will only hurt them both and yourself if you hurt Angel."

"So you'd hurt the one Luca would marry?" 

Tommy shook his head, quirking a brow, "We're not kids anymore, John. And I didn't come this far by being a good person," he exhaled smoke, pausing for a moment, "What I would do, has nothing to do with what you should do. And what you should do is move on. And you might not like it, but I'm going to help you with that."

John raised his head off the pillow, furrowing his brows in confusion, "What do you mean?"

Tommy got off the bed, opening the door, letting John stew in it for a few minutes before he answered, "We need a peace pact with the Lee clan. And you're going to get us that." Tommy looked straight into his eyes, "They have a girl in their midst, Esme, your age, that is uncontrollable and lost. Just like you. You're going to marry her on Sunday and get over your childish fucking crush, eh?"

John was frozen, unable to even properly digest what Tommy just said before his brother was stepping out and closing the door behind himself, leaving him in his confusion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this leave a kudo and a comment telling me how Luca makes you shit yourself, and how Tommy is totally twisted for matching him on that and find me on Tumblr @abusivelittlebunny

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this leave a kudo and a comment, tell me what you think, and check me out on Tumblr @abusivelittlebunny for more writing, art, and horny rambling <3


End file.
